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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 













In Dead Earnest 


y by 

JULIA BRECKINRIDGE. 



P23 
■ B 7^5" 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by 
THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


CHAPTER I. 

T he clouds were lowering ; a mist was sweeping over the 
Atlantic coast. Down in the Carolinas and in Virginia this 
mist soon turned to rain, but as it rolled farther North it 
developed itself in snow-flakes, which, as night approached, 
began to fall thick and fast. 

The northern-bound train seemed running a race with the 
storm-king. As twilight deepened into night, the lamps 
were swung inside the long line of coaches, the burning 
lights in front glared like demons’ eyes athwart the snow, 
and as the engine poured forth its sparks of fire and vol- 
umes of smoke, one who was not on board the train might 
well have imagined, as he saw it, that a destroying angel was 
madly tearing along the track. 

At last the city of Philadelphia was reached ; there was 
hurrying to and fro, and every preparation among the pas- 
sengers for hasty exit. One old gentleman in a drab-col- 
ored coat and broad-brimmed hat had accumulated his 
treasures in a heap, and now stood looking around, puzzled 
as to what he should next do. He presently went to a seat 


4 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


behind him whereon was coiled something under a shawl, 
and stooping, whispered, “ Jasper ! Jasper ! thee must 
wake up now. We are almost at home. Don’t thee hear, 
Jasper? Wake up, child !” 

The passengers were leaving the train, and yet the 
little sleeper, exhausted and unaccustomed to the fatigue of 
travel, could not be roused. A young man of about nine- 
teen, tall and well formed, with the down of a coming 
mustache upon his upper lip, seeing the dilemma of the old 
gentleman, came forward and offered his services. 

“ Thee will find her too heavy to lift, I fear, but if thee 
has a mind to lend me a helping hand, I will thank thee, for 
it is a bad night, and we should be getting into a coach as 
soon as possible.” 

The young man lifted the child from the seat, and wrapped 
his own cloak around her, while the Quaker gathered his 
parcels and led the way to the door of the coach. Just then 
Jasper woke up and struggled to get upon her feet, but the 
wind was blowing a hurricane, and the snow was on the 
ground, and the stranger held on to his burden until he de- 
posited it safely in the carriage to which the gentleman 
led the way. 

“ Thee has proved a friend in need,” he said. 44 I would 
be glad to render thee a service at any time. ’ ’ 

The young man simply replied that he ‘ 4 was welcome to 
his assistance, ’ * and with a touch of his hat hurried off to 
catch the train for New York. 

Poor little Jasper ! Eight years old and an orphan ! 
She had led a wild, free, happy life so far. She could 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


5 


beat any girl of her age in the whole country, riding, run- 
ning, and jumping, and could swim like a fish in the bar- 
gain. Her father and mother had died within a few weeks 
of each other, and she had been left to the care of an uncle, 
who was taking her to his home for the first time. 

It was not long before Ephraim Grantland was landed safe- 
ly at his own door, but on account of the new-fallen snow his 
arrival had been so noiseless that it was very evident that 
no one had found it out. After several ineffectual pulls at 
the door-bell, feet were heard in the hall, and admittance 
was gained. 

** Come in, child,” said Ephraim to the muffled-up little 
figure, that seemed to hesitate from sheer bewilderment ; 
“ here is thy aunt Hester, and here is thy cousin Abel.” 

After Hester Grantland had greeted her husband, she 
turned to his companion, and looking into the weary face 
and the large, almost unnaturally sad eyes, said, ” And 
this is Jasper ? Why, child, I had heard thee was hand- 
some.” Hester imprinted a cold kiss on Jasper’s forehead, 
but did not observe the deep flush that crimsoned her cheek 
the while. 

** Poor little wanderer 1“ said Ephraim, ” thee is glad thee 
has gotten to thy place of rest no doubt, for the journey has 
gone hard with thee. Take off thy wet wraps ; and, Hester, ” 
he continued, “ if thee has any supper for us, the sooner 
ready the better ; Jasper will sleep without rocking to- 
night. ’ * 

Mrs. Grantland’ s table was a perfect marvel of neatness. 
The fragrant tea sent its aroma through the room, and Hes- 


6 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


ter, as she took her seat before the tea-tray, motioned the 
others to their appointed places around the table. All sat 
in perfect silence for some moments. Jasper then unwit- 
tingly rattled her knife and fork, yet even Abel did not lift 
his eyes from his plate until Hester dispelled the charm by 
applying her hand to the handle of the tea-kettle. Abel then 
made an attack on the bread, and the cheese was drawn 
affectionately towards Ephraim. 

“ Thee is unacquainted with the customs of the Society 
of Friends, I see,” said Mr. Grantland to Jasper. “ Thee 
must remember hereafter to preserve silence for the purpose 
of asking a blessing before partaking of thy meals. Thee 
must endeavor to conform to our customs since thee has 
become a member of our family,” 

Jasper murmured faintly, “ I will try,” 

‘ ‘ That is all I ask, my child, ’ ’ said Ephraim Grantland, 
pleased with his niece’s reply. “ If we try we can do much, 
and nothing worth doing is done without trying much. ” 

The cup that cheers but not inebriates put new life into 
Jasper, and she began to make a survey of the room with 
her large wondering eyes. Opposite her sat her Cousin Abel, 
a fair specimen of a healthy, handsome boy, but the con- 
trast between his face and his costume caused Jasper to 
smile involuntarily. The lad saw this and blushed. Hes- 
ter Grantland bore upon her features the stamp of an iron 
will, which was only toned down by the extreme serenity of 
her manner. The closely-fitting white cap, the snowy hand- 
kerchief crossed upon her ample bosom, the soft gray of her 
plain dress, were all in keeping with the autumnal tint of 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


7 


carpet, chairs, curtains, etc. The coffin-like figures upon 
the rug made Jasper turn her eyes away ; they next fell 
upon the cat. Nature, regardless of Hester Grantland’s 
opinion upon the subject, had given puss a coat of orange 
and black, and a tail of the same. Forgetful of time, place, 
and circumstances, Jasper, thinking only of a pet kitten she 
had left at home, and feeling as if she had at last found 
something to let out her heart upon, sprang from the table, 
and, in the energy of her affection, took the cat in her arms. 

“ Put down the cat,” said Hester with that placid de- 
cision of manner from which there seemed to be no appeal. 
” If thee has finished thy supper thee can go upstairs ; 
thee will find Sophy Gregg there, who will tell thee where 
thy room is. Take thy wet cloak out of the hall. I will 
have thee waked in the morning. Good-night to thee.” 
Jasper held up her face for the good-night kiss, but Hester 
was busy about the tea-things and did not see her. The 
child made one spring into her uncle’s lap, and throwing her 
arms around his neck buried her face upon his shoulders. 

” Do you love me?” she said, while a great sob seemed 
almost rending her bosom. 

Ephraim Grantland smoothed back her hair caressingly, 
and said, “ Little girls must not ask foolish questions ; ac- 
tions speak louder than words. I should think, dear, thee 
had found out before this whether I loved thee or not. Go 
to bed now. I hope thee will be a good girl, and mind all 
that thy aunt Hester says to thee, and not give her trouble. 
There — I will kiss thee for her and myself too ;” and thus 
dismissed, Jasper went in search of her unknown dormitory. 


8 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


The table clear of the tea-things, and Abel gone to his 
books, Hester sat by the fire with her knitting, while 
Ephraim related the circumstances of his journey. He had 
reached his sister’s home only two days before her death. 
That sister had married Col. St. John, and gone to a far-off 
Virginia home. Gradually, one by one of her family drop- 
ped off, until Ephraim and herself were the sole remaining 
members. Reverses came ; then she was a widow ; and this 
last blow deepened a disease which had already fastened its 
hold upon her, and on her death-bed she wrote asking her 
brother to come to her. Hester Grantland knew all this, 
but she had not ventured to deter Ephraim from the visit ; 
she had only said, “ Remember thee has a son of thy own 
to educate, and thee is getting on in years beside.” 
Ephraim Grantland felt that he could not shirk the charge 
of his only sister’s only child, and therefore set forth on 
his journey, for, like all quiet men, there were some things he 
would do despite the lack of encouragement from his wife. 
He yielded most points to her superior judgment, as he called 
it, but once in a while that judgment was set at naught, and 
on this occasion Hester found there was no use throwing 
obstacles in the way. Ephraim had listened with the mild- 
est expression of countenance, but quietly adhered to his in- 
tention of taking the journey South. He had gone, and was 
now back again. And “ Hester,” said he, “ it was well 
that I went ; I feel quite sure that I shall never regret it.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


9 


CHAPTER II. 

The sun was high in the heavens the next morning before 
J asper opened her eyes. She would very likely have gone on 
sleeping until midday if Sophy Gregg had not put her head 
in at the door, saying, ‘ ‘ Who-y, not up yet ? I am think- 
ing Mrs. Hester will be after you ; hurry, hurry !” said the 
help ; “ it’s wash-day — you know and with this her shin- 
ing face disappeared. 

Jasper did not know, however. She had yet to learn that 
Ephraim Grantland’s house boasted but one servant, or 
help, and that help was the aforesaid Sophy ; that Sophy was 
to hurry over the breakfast, clean up the house, and have 
the clothes hanging upon the line by eleven o’clock. Jasper 
rubbed her eyes well to get them open ; then, with charac- 
teristic impetuosity, broke two or three shoe-strings ; then 
fastened her key in the key-hole of her trunk, could not find 
her pins, and finally reached the dining-room after the morn- 
ing’s meal had commenced. 

“ Good-morning to thee. Thy uncle has gone to his busi- 
ness,” said Hester, noticing that Jasper’s eyes turned toward 
his vacant seat. 4 4 He has no time to spend in bed of a morn- 
ing. Sit down to thy breakfast ; when thee is done, thee is 
to go to school ; all arrangements have been made for thy 
education. Abel, thee is to show thy cousin the way to Dr. 
Beckwith’s ; mind that thee puts on thy overcoat and 
snow-shoes. ’ * 


IO 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


44 Can thee knit and sew ?” said Hester, addressing herself 
to her young niece. 

4 4 I can sew some. ’ ’ 

44 We cannot afford to be idle here,” went on Hester. 
4 4 Thee can sew some. What else can thee do ?’ ' 

4 4 I can play a little on the piano and sing ; I can write, ride 
on horseback, fire a pistol, dance, and’ ’ — forgetting entire- 
ly where she was — 44 1 can do this,” said Jasper, and, jump- 
ing up from the table, she posed herself, and then doubled 
backward until her head almost touched her heels. 

Abel spilt his coffee, and burst into such an uncontrollable 
fit of laughter that the tears ran down his cheeks, while his 
mother regarded the calisthenic exercises with placid scorn, 
saying, 44 Eat thy breakfast ; we want no circus perform- 
ances here. Has thee gotten to the end of thy list of accom- 
plishments ?” 

44 I know right much French,” said Jasper, not a little dis- 
couraged, but trying to draw comfort from a hot buttered roll. 

44 Did thee expect to go to France ?” asked Hester with 
keen sarcasm. 

44 Oh, yes ! Papa was going to send me there to school — 
he wouldn’t have let me come here if he had lived. He 
didn’t like the Quakers a bit. Oh, he just despised ’em !” 

Abel here gave way to another outburst ; and Jasper, see- 
ing all at once that she had said something amiss, clapped 
her hand over her mouth for a second, exclaiming, 4 4 There 
now ! that’s just like me — uncle’s a Quaker ; I’m sure 
everybody loves him. ’ ’ 

4 4 It is a matter of no consequence who thee loves, or what 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


II 


thee thinks of the Society of Friends,” said Hester. 
“ Finish thy breakfast. It is hard to tell whether thy father 
was training thee for the cavalry or the hippodrome.” 

“ Oh, I think it must have been the hippodrome,” said 
Jasper, taken with the sound of the name. ” He wanted me 
to be a boy, but I wasn't a boy, and he taught me all sorts of 
things that girls didn’t do. I used to ride over the planta- 
tion with him, and he would let me fire at a mark while he 
held my hand, and he made me practise all sorts of things 
to make me strong ; and mamma thought every thing papa 
did was right, and it was. ’ ’ 

Get thy bonnet and go with Abel, ’ ’ said Hester sternly. 
” Thy uncle has selected thy books at the school. I will 
have some sewing for thee in my work-basket when thee re- 
turns. I expect thee to do thy daily task with thy needle.” 

Thus silenced, Jasper got up from the table, and prepared 
herself for the first day at school. As for Abel, when he 
was once fairly in the open air he kicked up his heels, tossed 
his hat on high, and seemed to enjoy the freedom from the 
restraint he was under at home quite as much as any boy 
could. He teased Jasper no little about the hippodrome; 
offered to post her bills when she got ready for a public 
exhibition. This, of course, brought on a quarrel, and Jasper 
informed him that she didn’t like him anyhow, whereupon 
Abel replied that there was no love lost between them, as 
he had little use for ” tom-boys ” A few moments more 
brought them to the place of their destination and into the 
presence of the principal of one of the largest schools in the 
city. The gentleman was evidently expecting them, for he 


12 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


came forward and spoke kindly to Jasper and Abel, and the 
latter, abashed under the gaze of nearly a hundred school- 
girls, made a hasty exit, whispering to Jasper as he did so, 
“ Thge can find thy way home by thyself." 

Jasper was assigned a seat by a pretty little curly-headed 
girl about her own age, who pointed out the lessons for the 
next day, and showed such a kind interest in the new-comer 
that Jasper asked her name. 

“ I am Katie Lee,” was the reply. 

“ And I am Jasper St. John,” said her companion, and 
having been thus introduced they became intimate at once, 
and were seen with their heads close together over their 
books until the recess bell was rung. They were then ob- 
served promenading the long gallery, with their arms around 
each other, as loquacious and confidential as if they had 
been acquainted for years. 

On Jasper’s return home she found Sophy Gregg with 
flaming face and skirts tucked up, sprinkling and folding 
the clothes, while Hester assisted in laying each article in 
the mammoth basket before her. Jasper was given the sew- 
ing prepared for her by her aunt, and she stitched away 
quite diligently for some moments, having made several in- 
effectual efforts at a conversation, first with Mrs. Grantland 
and then with Sophy. But presently Ephraim Grantland’ s 
footsteps were heard, and needle, thread, thimble, and cloth 
went flying in every direction as Jasper sprang toward him. 
Ephraim bent down, and, taking her face between his hands, 
kissed her as he said, “ Child, thee has all of thy mother’s 
affectionate nature, with thy father’s impetuosity. Thee 


IN DEAD EARNEST. I 3 

must study to be quiet. She will get toned down, wife, 
as she grows older.” 

“ I hope so,” said Hester dryly. “ In the mean time I 
will thank thee, Jasper, to pick up my work-basket, and to 
put away my scissors and needles, if thee intends to devote 
thyself to conversation for the rest of the day. * ’ 

Jasper put away every thing with alacrity, and, glad to find 
a listener in her uncle, gave an account of her experience at 
school, expressing her opinion of each individual, and wind- 
ing up with an amusing account of the queer-looking pro- 
fessor of music, who wore his wig on the side of his head. 

“ Is he the one, uncle, who will teach me music ?” 

Before Ephraim could reply, Hester said quietly, “ Thy 
uncle cannot afford to have thee taught by him or any one 
else ; thee may as well reconcile thyself to that." 

Jasper gave an inquiring, wistful look out of her gray 
eyes, and saw that Hester was telling the truth. 

“ Go now and study thy lessons for the morrow, and 
when thee is done help Sophy set the dinner-table ; she has 
overmuch work on hand to-day.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Grantland being left to themselves, Hester 
thought it a fit opportunity for discoursing upon the mistakes 
made in Jasper’s education. 

“ But thee knows,” said Ephraim in reply, “ she is but a 
light-hearted child now, and we must mould her character. 
We are too apt to forget that we were once young ourselves. 
Was I not a middle-aged man before I joined the Society of 
Friends? I should not mind Jasper’s learning music, but 
since thee objects I yield that point. In all else she shall 


H 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


have a first-rate education. Her father was a fine linguist, 
and I think she inherits his talent. ’ * 

‘ ‘ She had better be taught to sew, ’ ’ said Hester. 

“ Of course she must learn woman’s work, and with thy 
example I am pretty sure she will do so, Hester. Cheer 
thee up, wife ; don’t be over-anxious; there is no royal road 
to learning any thing. Line upon line, precept upon pre- 
cept, must be the rule ; and with thee to inculcate the daily 
lesson, our little waif may grow up to be a fine woman. 
Who knows but what she may prove a blessing to thee when 
Abel goes to college?” 

“ Don’t be too confident of it,” said Hester, with a shake 
of her head. “Think of a child’s galloping wild horses, 
firing pistols, etc !” 

“ But always under her father’s eye. However, I do not 
seek to justify the training, and I agree with thee that it was 
unfortunate, especially as she will no longer enjoy the free- 
dom of the country. Edgar St. John had his faults, it is 
true, but he was of a frank and generous nature. We must 
not ‘ draw his frailties from their dread abode,’ but be kind 
to his orphan child, Hester. ‘ Whoso giveth to the poor 
lendeth to the Lord.’ ” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


15 


CHAPTER III. 

“ Thee is to make thy own bed,” said Mrs. Grantland to 
Jasper one morning, as she saw Sophy arranging the pillows. 

” Oh, I like it — it’s fun !” said Jasper ; “I make it 
every morning, only Sophy will always put on a few extra 
touches.” 

Sophy had winked at Jasper in vain to hold her tongue. 
“ There now, it’s all up,” whispered Sophy, as Mrs. Grant- 
land went downstairs. ” I’ll never be allowed to touch it 
again. You’d better remember, to-morrow morning, not to 
put the blankets all on one side and the sheets on t’other ; 
folks may make beds that way down South, but we city 
folks don't. Now, you must sweep — this is the way and 
she wielded the broom with a vigorous hand. “ When you 
have swept, dust ! Mrs. Grantland hates dust like p’ison. 
Go ahead now,” she added, handing Jasper the broom. 
“ I can’t stay, for my bread will be burning.” 

The next morning Jasper tugged at her bed with all her 
might, but do what she would the foot was ever so much 
higher than the head, while there was a superabundance of 
bed-clothes on one side and a dearth of them on the other. 
Finally the shapeless mass was smoothed down, and Jasper 
regarded her work with a glance of inward satisfaction. 

“ Is this the result of thy industry ?” said Mrs. Grantland, 
as she entered the room. 


i6 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“ And isn’t it nice ?” exclaimed Jasper, as, with the spring 
of an athlete, she whirled over the rods of the four-posted 
bedstead and lighted upon her feet. 

‘ 4 Thee seems to feel little concern as to thy misdoings, ’ * 
said Hester, as she took off piece by piece of the bedding and 
laid it upon a chair. 4 4 If thee makes thy bed before thy 
school hour, thee will have to be brisk ; it lacks five minutes 
of the time,” and Mrs. Grantland went out without saying 
another word. 

Jasper threw herself upon the floor and gave way to a 
passionate burst of weeping. 44 Sophy ! Sophy !” she 
screamed. But Sophy could not hear ; she had put away 
the bread and gone to market. Jasper remembered sudden- 
ly that she would be late at school ; she sprang up, recklessly 
dashed counterpane and every thing else over the bed at 
once, and, seizing her bonnet, rushed out of the house. She 
was too late, and as a punishment had to take her place at 
the foot of her class. The child was getting desperately 
homesick, and thought seriously of running away ; only she 
didn’t know where to run to. She wondered if little girls 
ever sold newspapers about the streets ; she was sure she 
could do it as well as any one ; but then 4 4 where would the 
papers come from ?” She did try to do her best sometimes, 
4 4 but what was the use ; no one ever knew it. What was the 
use of being good anyhow — who cared ?” 

Her uncle was duly informed of every failure in duty, and 
he looked sadly at her, and sighed heavily when he heard of 
her misdemeanors. 

Jasper found little to vary the monotony of the hours. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


17 


When Sunday came, the Grantlands went to the Quaker 
“ meeting-house,” where each person sat in perfect silence 
until the spirit moved either some man or woman to address 
the congregation. It was a strange sight to Jasper to see 
the men all ranged on one side of the house and the women 
on the other, with a tall partition between. How quaint the 
females all looked in their coal-scuttle bonnets and short 
dresses ! Then there was never any singing or praying. 
‘ ‘ What could it all mean ?’ ’ 

Hungry for music, every opportunity that Jasper could 
snatch at school she haunted the rooms where the girls were 
taking lessons, and while she was hid under the piano 
learned quite as much as the regular pupil. Many a time 
when the professor had gone to his dinner, Jasper stole from 
her hiding-place, crept to the piano-stool, and went through 
the exercise which had just been taught some one else. This 
helped more than any thing to drive away the homesick feeling, 
though it came back again. True, Professor Reinberg was 
cross, he stormed at the girls fearfully, but Jasper didn’t 
mind it — the beautiful music made up for all. Besides, he 
never saw her ; when music was going on, he cared for 
nothing else, saw nothing else ; even his beautiful little gold- 
en-haired Bertha, his only child, whom he loved better than 
any thing in the world, was not noticed then. This same in- 
fant Bertha had become a darling with Jasper. If there was 
any delicacy in her lunch-basket, it was always shared with 
Bertha. All the toys and pretty things that Jasper owned 
gradually came into the possession of the little pet, until 


i8 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Professor Reinberg became well acquainted with the name 
of Jasper, although he did not know her when he saw her. 

A year had passed now. Jasper was growing, but at the 
same time great black rings were under her eyes, and as the 
winter advanced a hacking cough seemed to have settled 
upon her lungs. Miss Harrison, in whose classes she recited, 
noticed the change, and seemed concerned about it, but Jas- 
per declared she was quite well, and the matter was dropped. 

One gloomy winter’s day, concealed behind a curtain dur- 
ing her play-hour, Jasper as usual listened to the Professor 
giving his music lesson. The pupil could not take in the 
difference between the leger-line notes which were on the 
line and those under the line. The master waxed more and 
more impatient, until at last he grew hot and then furious. 

4 ‘ I tell you de note is under de line — it is not 071 de line, ’ ’ 
he almost shrieked. “ Can you not see ?” 

The young victim at the piano trembled visibly. 

44 1 will ask you one more time,” he said. 44 Is dat note 
under de line or is it on de line ?’ * 

A faint, weak voice answered, 4 4 On the line. ’ ’ 

The professor sprang from his seat, and, exasperated be- 
yond measure, scattered sheets of music far and wide, while, 
in order to give a practical illustration of the situation of the 
note, he scrambled under the piano, and, squatting down, 
said, 44 Look at me ! Am I under de piano or am I on top 
of de piano ? Will you tell me ?” 

The victim, now in a flood of hysterical tears, could not 
say* any thing. Here the professor sprang into the middle 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 1 9 

of the room, jerking the music from the instrument and 
tearing it into strips. 

‘ * I can teach de music, but I cannot furnish de brains ; I 
will not give de lessons to one idiot.” 

He raved, he stormed, he dashed his wig to the farthest 
corner of the room. 

‘‘You need not come here again. You shall not put a fin- 
ger on de keys. I wish you were dead and your bones were 
bleached !” 

He turned around to hurl the culprit from the piano- 
stool, but found a second person there. It was Jasper, who 
had come out from her hiding-place, and had taken her 
stand by the frightened girl. 

“ How came you here ?” thundered the irate man. 

“ I come here every day at this time,” said Jasper ; “ if 
it makes you angry, I won’t come anymore, but please don’t 
scold Katie ; she knows all her notes ; I heard her say them 
yesterday. ’ ’ 

“ Why don’t she say de notes if she know dem?” asked 
the professor. 

“ You scare her so,” said Jasper. 

‘‘ One big lie,” exclaimed the German. “ Besides you 
don’t know if she sayde note right or not. Don’t you never 
dare to come to dis room, never no more again — you hear 
me ? Wasn’t you in de fear I would kill you if I did find 
out?” 

“ No,” said Jasper, “ I wish I were dead anyhow.” 

“ One nother big, big lie, you wicked creature.” 

“ If you don’t believe me I will prove it,” said Jasper, 


20 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


and she put her hand down her bosom, and drew out a hard 
ball of snow. 

Here was a case for investigation. The professor now 
calmed down ; simply motioned the pupil from the room, and 
turned his attention to Jasper. 

‘ ‘ And dat is de way you take for to kill yourself. I shall 
report you. What for you do dat for ?” 

“ I want to go to my mother,” said Jasper. 

‘ * And where is she ?’ ’ 

“ In heaven.” 

* ‘ But you will not go to any such a place if you do a 
dreadful' ting like dat. You will go to de torment.” 

Jasper now looked frightened, and said, ” I heard my 
aunt say this morning she would get rid of me as soon as she 
could. Nobody loves me, and I don’t want to stay where I 
am.” 

“ Come sit down,” said the man, forgetting his own 
troubles in the interest awakened. ‘ ‘ What for did you come 
to dis room ?” 

“To hear you give the lessons, so I could learn, for my 
aunt says that my uncle must not spend so much money on 
me, and will not let me be taught ; besides she is a very strict 
Quaker and thinks music is a sin.” 

“ De goose-head ! Have you learn anyting ?” 

“ I can play some exercises in that book.” 

” Prove it !” said the professor positively. 

Jasper took her seat, and executed the first lesson she 
came to with such neatness and precision that the teacher 
was astonished. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


21 


“ Who are you ?” he demanded when she had finished. 

“ I am Jasper ! Your little girl knows me.” 

“Is dis de little Jasper she make much talk of? You 
was one bad child to put dat snow in your bosom ; you must 
not do so never no more — do you hear ? It is wrong, it is 
very wicked.” » 

“ Is it wicked to get angry ?” asked Jasper. 

“ You mean I get mad with one idiot sometime,” 
said the professor, a smile breaking out in spite of himself. 

“ Oh, please don’t any more !” said Jasper ; ” you look so 
dreadful — just like the old scratch, and not a bit like little 
Bertha’s papa. Poor Katie gets so frightened. Please let 
her come again, and don’t scold so much.” 

“ My bark is worse dan de bite,” said the professor, pat- 
ting her on the head. “ Go tell Katie to come, and you 
come too ; but mind, you snow-ball yourself never no more 
again — you hear ? Do you promise ?” 

‘ ‘ And may I come whenever I have my play-time, like I 
used to ?” 

“ If you promise.” 

“ Oh, I promise, and I’m ever so glad besides ; and I’ll 
run and hunt up Katie and be back in two minutes and 
with this Jasper dashed breathlessly from the room in search 
of her crestfallen companion. 

Professor Reinberg was at the bottom of his heart a kind 
man. He did not fail to bring the singular conduct of Jas- 
per to the notice of Miss Harrison. She discovered at once 
the cause of the hacking cough and hollow eyes, and felt 
convinced that a child with such a remarkable disposition 


22 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


should be looked after. The incident in regard to the ball 
of snow was related to Mrs. Grantland at the earliest op- 
portunity. Hester relaxed sufficiently from the frigidity of 
her manner to say she had never dreamed of a child of nine 
years old attempting suicide. ** There was something des- 
perate in such a nature. ’ ’ 

Miss Harrison agreed that * * it was dreadful,” but said 
she, " What a capacity for loving that child must have ! 
There must have been such a feeling of utter loneliness, such 
a pent-up passionate yearning for the dead mother, before 
such an act could have been committed ! Dear Mrs. Grant- 
land, do not let us judge her too harshly. I think — indeed, 
I am almost sure — she fancies herself in the way in your 
house.” 

This was an unfortunate disclosure for Jasper. Her 
uncle' was informed of her behavior, Abel taunted her day 
after day with it, and even Sophy, who had been friendly, 
exclaimed in horror when she overheard the matter dis- 
cussed. 

Miss Harrison proved herself a good angel now. Her 
sympathizing nature was ever ready to respond to the claim 
of the lonely and wretched, and the cold replies and in- 
different manner of Mrs. Grantland during their interview 
opened her eyes to the situation of affairs much more than 
Jasper’s conduct had done. She drew the child toward her 
by little deeds of kindness, inculcating lessons of patience 
and forbearance at the same time. From this gentle woman 
Jasper in time learned that “ the path of the cross is the 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


23 

path of light.” Her rebellious nature ceased to chafe at its 
thraldom. 

As days lapsed into months and months into years she 
learned the lesson that we must all get by heart as we jour- 
ney through life. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Hester Grantland was no hypocrite, but she worshipped 
God in fear, not in love. She was deficient in that power 
which could blend the rules of a Christian life with its 
daily duties in such a manner as to lead her young charge 
step by step to a loftier aim, till the heart, cleansed and lifted 
out of its natural self, leaned toward the “ Fountain of all 
joy.” Although leading a life untainted by a single worldly 
aspiration, she was entirely deficient in sympathy for the 
weaknesses of human nature, and discountenanced all who 
did not subscribe to her frigid code. Had she loved God, 
she would have loved His creatures more. That a person of 
such a disposition ever became the wife of Ephraim Grant- 
land can be accounted for only by that subtle law of antago- 
nism peculiar to human nature. She was a type of no par- 
ticular sect ; we see just such persons professing various 
creeds, but, whatever their bdief, they do dishonor to the 
name of Christian. When Mrs. Grantland rose to speak in 
the “meeting-house,” every eye was fixed upon her, and 


24 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


stubborn was the heart that did not quail under her denuncia- 
tions. While she scorned all the arts of rhetoric and elocu- 
tion, her arguments were clear, the language of her sermons 
unexceptionable, and, although she delivered each discourse 
with clasped hands and eyes turned neither to the right nor 
left, her audience felt that her words cut like a two-edged 
sword. When Jasper first saw her aunt rise and take her 
text in “ meeting” a nervous tremor took possession of the 
child. Hester laid aside her coal-scuttle bonnet, and, posing 
herself with an air of calm dignity, called out in a voice 
which penetrated to every corner of the well-filled church, 
“ There is no God!" (Then there was a pause.) Again, 
and still louder, she cried out, “ There is no God !" 

Jasper trembled all over, and many of the elders in the 
congregation moved uneasily in their seats ; but Hester went 
on to say, “ Who says there is no God ? The fool j none 
but the fool, out of his depraved heart, saith this, my breth- 
ren. Averse to obedience, dreading the all-seeing eye of the 
Omnipotent One, man wishes that there were none. Con- 
scious of guilt, expecting nothing but wrath, man would fain 
quiet his fears, and saith in his heart, not in his mind, there 
is no God.” 

She dwelt upon the terrors of the law and not upon the 
redeeming love of the Saviour, and holding forth in this 
style for twenty minutes more, at the end of that time re- 
sumed her bonnet, and sat down with the air of one who 
had tried to do her duty. Where was He who said, 

‘ * Though your sins be as scarlet, I will make them as white 
as snow” ? 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


25 


When the spirit moved the congregation to disperse, many 
commented on the edifying words they had heard from 
friend Grantland, but Hester went her way homeward, car- 
ing little what any one thought of her. The atmosphere of 
such a household as hers was not conducive to the healthy 
growth of a nature like Jasper’s. Her many faults, though 
remarked upon, were not dealt with in the proper way, and 
such a course might have led to bad results but for the 
counteracting kindness of Miss Harrison. That lady having 
found out that the key to Jasper’s nature was love, deter- 
mined to make the best use of the secret ; and gradually 
the child learned to confide in her. Ever since the day 
when J asper had acted so conspicuous a part in the scene be- 
tween Katie and Professor Reinberg, Katie had attached 
herself to her more firmly than ever. Little Bertha loved 
her too, and always ran to greet her with the morning 
kiss ; so there were some few gleams of sunshine in the 
leaden sky, and the world was not so dark after all. She 
was partially relieved also of one tormentor — namely, Abel. 
He had been sent off to school, and only came home once in a 
great while. During one of his visits he reminded her of the 
first night she spent in her uncle’s house. “ Thee did not 
think I saw thee smiling at me,” said he, ” but I did.” 

” I am used to you now,” rejoined Jasper. 

” But thee would like me better in clothes like other 
boys ?” 

” I don’t know that I should like you as well. I hope 
you don’t care what / wear,” Jasper added, glancing down 
at the rather shabby dress which she had on. 


26 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


‘ ‘ Thee is a girl, and came from down South, where they 
feed the slaves on cotton-seed. I can’t expect thee to have 
any feeling.” 

“ It is no such thing !” said Jasper vehemently. “ We 
didn’t call them slaves either ; we called them uncle and 
aunt, and we loved some of them a great sight better than 
some of our own aunts, too.” 

“ Thee needn’t tell me— I know all about that." 

Here Mrs. Grantland entered, and Abel continued, 
“ Mother, did thee know Jasper was of African descent ?” 

" I am not /” Jasper cried out indignantly. 

“ Thee claims kin with the negro anyhow.” 

“ I don’t care if I do,” said Jasper angrily, unable to ex- 
plain the origin of the custom. “I know who my great- 
grandfather was, and I know what became of him, and that’s 
more than you do.” The latter part of this remark was in- 
tended to apply to Jasper’s own parentage, but Abel mis- 
understood her. 

‘ ‘ Mother, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘ can thee tell us what became of my 
grandfather ?” 

“Thee could find out from history; but if thee is im-. 
patient to hear I will tell thee,” said his mother. 

“By all means,” replied Abel; “Jasper would like to 
know.” 

‘ ‘ He was hanged, ’ ’ said his mother, as she narrowed off 
the toe of a sock, and straightened herself with inward satis- 
faction. 

Abel looked discomfited at this disclosure, for he had 
perfect confidence in his mother’s truthfulness. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 2j 

“ I am glad he wasn’t any kin to me, for it must be 
dreadful wicked to get hanged,” said Jasper. 

“ For crime, it is, undoubtedly,” Mrs. Grantland conde- 
scended to reply ; ‘ ‘ but Hezekiah Hollinger died in the 
cause of religion ;” and here Hester reviewed the history of 
the persecutions suffered by the Puritans in England, the 
landing of the Pilgrims, their establishment in the colonies, 
and the persecutions they in turn visited upon the Quakers, 
and wound up by saying, “ Thee need never blush for thy 
ancestry, my son ; thy grandsire was one of the first martyrs 
who laid down his life for the Society of Friends, or Qua- 
kers, as the world calls them. Some were burned at the 
stake, but thy sire perished upon the scaffold. His record 
was without a blemish, and I wish thee may ever be as wor- 
thy to have thy name written among the saints in heaven.” 

Abel did not appreciate the position of his progenitor, but 
his mother’s explanation was a relief to his feelings, and he 
felt that the stigma of his relative’s death had been removed. 

Mrs. Grantland had long ago removed Jasper from the 
cosey little chamber in which she was first domiciled. As 
for Jasper, she greatly enjoyed the change to the attic. 
“ Sophy Gregg slept there, and Sophy was as neat as a new 
pin.” Then the great dormer-window let in a flood of sun- 
shine that glorified the pine bedsteads and tables, and when 
the moon shone it was positively beautiful ; then she could 
see far away over the tops of the houses, and on pleasant 
days, when that same window was open, she could sit there 
and look up into the blue sky and sing like a bird, and there 
was nobody to care and nobody to hear. In the strong 


28 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


light of the attic her faded dress looked much more so, and 
Sophy’s face disclosed many more marks of smallpox, but 
heaven seemed so much nearer, and what her aunt had in- 
tended as a punishment turned out a blessing. Jasper 
had gotten over the troublesome cough, and Sophy declared 
* ‘ she was running up like a bean-pole and the waists of 
her dresses would be under her arms after awhile, if she 
didn’t stop ; but folks had to grow in spite of old clothes, 
and Mrs. Grantland couldn’t say nothing to that anyhow.” 


CHAPTER V. 

The first years of Jasper’s sojourn at Ephraim Grantland’s 
house had come and gone. It was the season when all the 
air was astir with the delicious breath of May — roses and 
lilies flung forth their fragrance on the balmy atmosphere ; 
the winter king was gone, and joy seemed to fill the heart of 
the whole world. An excursion to the woods had been 
planned for the pupils of Dr. Beckwith’s school. The flight 
of time had worked some changes in Jasper for the better, 
and she was developing into the tall and slender girl of four- 
teen ; less thoughtless, rather more quiet, yet in the main 
the same Jasper after all. Her excellent scholarship won 
the respect of her teachers and the admiration of her class, 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


2 9 

and in consequence of this she had been chosen Queen of 
May. 

Having informed her aunt of the honor extended her, 
Mrs. Grantland asked “ whether it was on account of her 
beauty or her accomplishments ?” 

“For neither, of course, aunt,” Jasper replied, trying 
hard to choke down the angry feeling. “ Indeed, I can’t 
tell why they chose me.” 

“ Neither can I,” Mrs. Grantland coldly replied. 

This remark amounted to a final decision in regard to 
Jasper’s wardrobe, which did not boast a single dress suit- 
able for an occasion of so great moment, and of course she 
was compelled to decline taking the rank assigned her. 
But at any rate she could be a looker-on, and with Sophy’s 
assistance she remodelled her dark winter dress by stitching 
late at night ; and with the snowiest of tiny linen collars and 
a knot of ribbon at her throat, when the momentous hour ar- 
rived she set out for one long day of pleasure. She was yet too 
young to be aware of the fact that pleasure is ever sure to 
elude those who go in search of it, and breathless with an- 
ticipation she joined the crowd assembled in the great hall 
of Dr. Beckwith’s establishment. She experienced a pang of 
disappointment as she overheard the whispered comments 
indulged in on account of her unsuitable costume. 

“ It is a positive shame !” said one ; others, “ She looks 
a black sheep among white lambs and even little Bertha 
cried out, “ Oh, do, please, Jasper, go back and put on an- 
other dress ; I won’t love you if you don’t.’’ 

This caused great tears to come into Jasper’s eyes, and 


3 ° 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


she stooped and whispered, “ I have no other dress, Bertha, 
and if you only love me for my clothes, you won’t love me 
long, for all I have are very shabby, and I don’t know when 
I can ever get any more.” 

But Bertha was too much excited to take in the situation, 
and, running away, would have nothing more to do with her. 
Katie too, who had always been her staunch friend, was en- 
tirely taken up with other girls. Jasper began to wish her- 
self at home, but seeing Miss Harrison overloaded with 
baskets, she went to her assistance, and hoped, by lending a 
hand to all the necessary arrangements for their departure, 
to get rid of an aching heart. Who would have thought 
that little Bertha would have shunned her — Bertha, whom 
she had trotted up and down on her back many a time 
when she was almost dead with fatigue — Bertha, for whom 
she had saved all her apples and every little treasure she 
possessed in the world ! The hot tears would come in spite 
of every thing, and she brushed them away for fear Miss 
Harrison might notice how foolish she was. The party was 
to take the train from the Seventh-street depot, and, after an 
hour’s travel, disembark at Stratford station. A pleasant 
walk thence brought them to a lovely and romantic spot, not 
far from which ran a deep, clear stream, while all around 
were cliffs festooned with vines and purple with the early 
wild flowers which peeped from under the rich green moss. 
Arrived at their destination, the girls clapped their hands 
with delight, and ran about in every direction, doing and 
saying many extravagant things, as school-girls always will 
when out for a summer holiday. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


31 


Dr. Beckwith declared himself too rheumatic to keep up 
with the young people, and leaving them in charge of his 
wife and Miss Harrison, he seated himself on a camp-stool 
under a spreading tree, and regaled himself with pipe and 
book. 

Professor Reinberg declared he “ could not stand de 
noise ; it did split both ear, ’ ’ and, leaving his commands 
that Bertha was not to climb the cliff, ‘ ‘ she might sprain de 
knuckle or someting, ’ ’ he provided himself with a hook and 
line, and wandered off in search of a day’s sport. The 
Queen was crowned with her wreath of spring flowers, then 
there was a swing in a grand old tree which furnished amuse- 
ment for an hour or so, a jumping rope also was a great re- 
source ; then luncheon came, and the beef tongue and sand- 
wiches, the dainty pies and mountain cake w;ere eaten with 
a relish which can only be obtained by those who spend a 
day in the opn air. 

But “ O for a ride on that beautiful river !” There was 
a little skiff, but no one to row. It was duly inspected by 
a delegation of older girls, and by dint of hard work loosed 
from its moorings, but after much deliberation they decided 
to abandon the attempt, and with great disappointment re- 
turned to the swing. 

Jasper however took no part in these amusements. She 
sat alone ; even Miss Harrison was forced to allow that she 
evinced a very unamiable spirit, and had better not be no- 
ticed. She positively refused to turn the jumping-rope for 
her companions, and Katie Lee had said, “ Jasper, if I had 


32 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


been in your place I would have stayed at home — you look 
cross enough to turn sweet milk sour.’' 

This served to gall still further the fierce spirit that Jasper 
could not exorcise, and she said angrily, ‘ ‘ Since you can 
only say unpleasant things to me, Katie, I hope you will 
never speak to me again. I shall certainly not inflict my 
disagreeable countenance on you. ’ ’ 

Katie skipped away with one arm around the neck of a 
girl who had always been at enmity with Jasper, on account 
of her superior scholarship, and a merry laugh burst from the 
two companions as they disappeared. 

Thus the day wore on until it was time to think of gather- 
ing lunch-baskets and camp-stools, and collecting their forces 
for a return homeward. Just then a shrill voice rang out 
loud and clear, and all stopped to listen. 

“ Jasper ! Jasper !” some one cried in terrified tones. 
“ Oh come, Jasper — dear, good Jasper, please come !” 

All now ran in the direction whence that voice proceeded, 
and as they reached the bank of the river, a thrill of horror 
ran through every breast. 

There was Bertha in the boat drifting far out into the 
stream where the current was strongest ; with the dam not 
far below, and no one to help ; all saw in a moment she 
was inevitably lost. Even had Prof Reinberg been present 
he could not swim, and as for Dr. Beckwith, it was with diffi- 
culty he could walk, even with a cane, since his last attack 
of rheumatism. The agonizing cry grew still more so when 
Bertha saw the dismay depicted upon the countenances of 
those who stood upon the bank of the river. There was 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


33 


the rope with which the skiff had been tied, trailing farther 
and farther away with no possibility of grasping it, unless 
an expert swimmer were at hand. 

It was the thought of a moment, Jasper tore off her straw 
hat, and thus throwing aside everything that might encum- 
ber her, gave one plunge into the stream. There was a 
splash, and then she disappeared, and a wail burst from every 
spectator of the scene. But see, she rises, and now she is 
striking out for the rope. “ She swims !” they all cry out. 

“ God bless her — she swims !” said Dr. Beckwith, while 
tears rained down his cheeks. 

She nears the boat, the rope is almost in her grasp, and 
loud cheers break from her companions on the shore. 

“But not yet — she cannot quite reach it,” they almost 
whisper, and oh ! that cruel breeze, coming so late out of 
the gorges of the hills laden with the breath of spring flowers, 
has swept the prize far beyond her. She struggles bravely. 
And now Professor Reinberg reaches the crowd upon the 
bank of the river, and as Bertha recognizes her father, she 
rushes to the side of the boat, which was already filling with 
water, and stretches her arms imploringly towards him. 
The boat capsizes ! The few seconds that ensued were 
lapsed into an eternity of suffering, and agonizing cries for 
help burst from every heart. 

“Both drowned!” whispered Dr. Beckwith hoarsely, as 
Jasper’s head disappeared under the water. 

A sad, low, murmuring sound came sweeping down from 
the hills, and one great sob burst from the strong man’s 
breast. 


34 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


CHAPTER VI. 

There was a vacant seat at Hester Grantland’s tea-table, 
and in spite of her assuring her husband that there was no 
cause for uneasiness — it was just like the girl to be loitering 
with her school-mates after their return to Dr. Beckwith’s — 
Ephraim looked troubled. He finished his supper in silence, 
and had just taken his broad-brimmed hat from its place in 
the hall, when there was a loud ring at the door-bell. He 
opened the door and listened to the few hurried words of 
the messenger who stood there. 

“ I was just about to go in search of the dear child,” said 
Ephraim Grantland with a slight tremor in his voice. “ I 
will return with thee ; in the meantime tell me all.” 

His companion gave a faithful account of the sad acci- 
dent ; the capsizing of the boat, the sinking of both Jasper 
and Bertha, and by the time he had finished his story they 
reached Dr. Beckwith’s house which was situated in the 
same lot with the seminary of which he was the principal. 
Ephraim Grantland mounted the short flight of steps, and 
was met at the door by Professor Reinberg who caught the 
astonished Quaker in such an embrace that it almost 
squeezed the life out of him. 

” Jasper will live,” said the Professor, wiping his eyes, al- 
ready red with weeping. ‘ ‘ She will live, do not fear ! Oh 1 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


35 


she is one noble girl — she did save my little Bertha.” And 
the little man was compelled to pause for the lack of lan- 
guage to express the depth of his gratitude. With some diffi- 
culty he gave an account of the affair in his broken English; 
described the upsetting of the boat, the disappearance of 
both Jasper and Bertha ; how Jasper the next moment, with 
head above water, struck out for the shore, but not until she 
had, by an adroit movement, when diving, run her left hand 
under the sash of the little girl as she fell from the boat, and 
thus secured a hold upon her. Bertha was lifeless and made 
no resistance. Many times Jasper’s strength seemed almost 
gone, but with hope came endurance, and she finally swam' 
sufficiently near the shore for Professor Reinberg to wade in 
and relieve her of her burden ; it was wonderful,- it was mir- 
aculous ! 

Ephraim Grantland listened with attention. He was also 
informed that Bertha was resuscitated and was doing well, 
but Jasper was quite ill, and owing to that fact Dr. Beck- 
with and Miss Harrison would remain with the two girls for 
the night at the cottage to which they had been taken im- 
mediately after the accident. Jasper had fainted from sheer 
exhaustion when she reached the shore, but fortunately for 
them, a light wagon came in sight just at that time. Into this 
she was lifted, and carefully wrapped in an abundance of 
warm shawls, which had been carried in case of rain. Miss 
Harrison took charge of her, and held her head in her lap, 
and after resorting to the usual mode of reviving her, had 
the satisfaction of seeing Jasper open her eyes when the 
jersey stopped. Bertha, in the care of others, was left on 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


3 ^ 

the bank of the river apparently dead, but Dr. Beckwith had 
not given her up. It was a fortunate thing that in the early 
years of his life he had been a regular and successful prac- 
titioner of medicine, and had, on one occasion, recovered a 
patient who was drowned ; but for this circumstance little 
Bertha Reinberg would never have opened her blue eyes to 
gladden her father’s heart again. Under the Doctor’s treat- 
ment, in course of time, she was restored and conveyed to 
the same house to which Jasper had been taken. It was 
Ephraim Grantland’s intention to see Jasper at once, but 
unfortunately the evening train for Stratford station had 
gone out and there would not be another until the next 
morning at ten o’clock. 

“Well, I must bide my time, Carl Reinberg,” said Mr. 
Grantland ; “ but if thee hears anything more from the poor 
child by telegraph, let me know, will thee not?” 

Professor Reinberg promised to do so, and Ephraim re- 
turned home to let Hester know the cause of Jasper’s ab- 
sence. 

The good people who lived in the country house to which 
the latter had been taken, did everything that could be done 
for her comfort, but notwithstanding their kindness, she was 
threatened with a bad night of it. Dr. Beckwith felt her 
pulse with concern, it was quick and hard, and her symp- 
toms betokened fever. It was very evident the attack was 
coming on her before the accident. The doctor was a hu- 
mane man, and could not think of leaving the child under the 
circumstances. After administering a sedative, he retired for 
the night, leaving her to Miss Harrison’s care, but long 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


37 


before day he was called to the bedside of the patient. 
Now she was calling out in wild delirium to Bertha, then to 
Katie, and sometimes to her aunt, who she imagined was 
sitting in the boat with folded arms, smiling in derision 
at Jasper’s vain efforts to reach the rope. Dr. Beckwith 
telegraphed to Mr. Grantland that the case was a serious 
one and would require watching, and Ephraim went up on 
the evening train in company with his own physician, for he 
knew it was important for the head of the school to return 
to his charge. Days passed before Jasper knew any one 
about her ; and her young life hung upon so slight a thread 
that when she began to rally it was as if the spirit had beeii 
called again to inhabit the feeble body. She never knew that 
her aunt came and spoke kindly to her, and laid her cold 
hand almost tenderly on her burning forehead ; she never 
knew that her uncle prayed that she might be spared to him, 
nor did she know until long afterward that it was Miss Har- 
rison who sat by her night after night and held the cooling 
draught to her parched lips. There was no lack of money 
with Ephraim Grantland, and he made free use of it in any 
case of suffering or distress. He seemed anxious that the 
best of nurses should be employed for his niece, and would 
not have counted the cost, but Dr. Beckwith knew that it 
was important that Jasper should be ministered to by lov- 
ing hands, and who so ready and willing to do that as Miss 
Harrison ? So the arrangement was made that some one 
else should take charge of her classes while she devoted 
herself to the sufferer. The long weeks of suspense and 
watching at length went by, and Jasper was at last pro- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


38 

nounced out of danger. The plunge into the river, Ber- 
tha’s rescue, all that seemed like a fearful dream ; but the 
invalid remembered, with a feeling of bitterness, the coldness 
of Katie and Bertha and the unkind remarks she had over- 
heard from her school-mates. The bare mention of her re- 
turning to her Aunt Hester seemed to take away the little 
strength the patient had gained. She remembered how 
angry she had felt on that beautiful May-day when every 
one else was so happy, but surely there was provocation ; 
she hoped, too, she might never love any one as much again 
as she had loved her two friends. Jasper could stand all 
of her aunt’s sarcasm better than she could one harsh word 
from Katie. 

But there was something very pleasant in store for Jasper, 
and she found it out when her uncle next came to see her. 
She was not to go home when she got well, but to Dr. 
Beckwith’s, where she was to board for a month or two. 
The reason of this was that her aunt was going to Maine 
to see an only brother, who was at the point of death, and 
as Ephraim Grantland had business in New York the house 
would be closed. The end of the week found Jasper suffi- 
ciently strong to be removed to the daintiest of little rooms 
at Dr. Beckwith’s. The chamber opened into Miss Harri- 
son’s, and the snowy muslin curtains, the pictures and 
pretty brackets, all formed a delightful contrast to the bare 
and uninviting attic in which Jasper slept at home. None 
of her school-mates were allowed to see her for some days, 
as she was still very weak and not permitted to sit up long, 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 39 

but in course of time the restriction was removed, and one 
morning there came a gentle tap at her door. 

“ Who is it ?” she asked, her heart fluttering no little in 
the meantime. 

* ‘ Only Bertha — may I come in ?’ * 

“No, Bertha — go away,” said Jasper. 

But I want to see you, Jasper, please let me.” 

“ No, Bertha, go away ; I don’t want to see anybody.” 

“ May Katie come then ? She is with me,” added Bertha 
timidly. 

Jasper had to pull the bed-clothes over her head, and stifle 
a little sob before she could reply : 

“No. Katie need not trouble herself about me. She 
must have forgotten what I last said to her. ’ ’ 

The door was opened ever so slightly, and a lovely bunch 
of flowers slipped into a chair near by, and the two girls crept 
downstairs again. 

The next morning there was the same low tap at the door, 
and the same little voice said : 

“ Katie and Bertha want to come in.” 

“You must not worry me, Bertha. I am done with you 
now and forever, and you too, Katie.” 

‘ ‘ I wish you had let me drown, ’ ’ sobbed Bertha, passion- 
ately, as she threw herself upon the hall floor. 

“ Don’t mind her, Bertha,” said Katie, trying to comfort 
the child, “ we won’t come soon again, will we ?” and Miss 
Harrison, coming up just then, inquired into the cause of 
their distress. The circumstances were related to her, and 


40 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


she felt much concerned, and not a little disappointed that 
Jasper should have acted in such a manner. Certain things 
came to mind, also, which Mrs. Grantland had insinuated in 
regard to Jasper’s disposition ; perhaps, after all, her aunt 
may not be so far wrong in her estimate of her character. 

“Perhaps we had best let her alone,” thought Miss 
Harrison ; but was it right ? A still small voice whispered, 
“ The heart knoweth its own bitterness and Miss Harri- 
son decided to continue in the exercise of that patience and 
gentleness for which she was so remarkable. It had not 
escaped her notice that Jasper never said the bed-side prayer ; 
a bitter feeling seemed turning her heart to stone — something 
must be done about it. “ The heart knoweth its own bitter- 
ness,” something seemed to say again, and Miss Harrison 
resolved that she would no longer remain silent, so bending 
over Jasper as she lay upon her pillow that night, looking very 
white and sad, she took the thin face in her hands and said, 
“ Tell me what is the matter, Jasper.” 

But the white lips quivered, and refused to do their bidding. 

“ Tell me,” said Miss Harrison, with that tone in her 
voice which older pupils than Jasper had never been able to 
resist. 

Then only was the aching heart unburdened. The pent- 
up feeling was all out now, and Miss Harrison’s kind words 
encouraged Jasper to still greater confidence. “ Oh ! ever 
since that May-day,” Jasper went on, “ I have tried not to 
care for anybody ; no one loves me — God does not, I know. ’ ’ 

“ Do you love Him, Jasper ?” 

“ I don’t know— T think not.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


41 


‘ * Do you pray to him ?’ ’ 

“ Not now. I used to. I always knelt at my mother’s 
knee ; but that seems so long ago. I am sure God has for- 
gotten me.” 

“ No, dear Jasper, God has not. It has been said, 
* Love flows downwards, and that the love of parents for 
their children has always exceeded that of children for their 
parents. Who among the sons of men ever loved God with 
a thousandth part of the love which God has manifested to 
us. ’ And if it is a source of grief to you that your young 
companions have proved unworthy of your affection, do you 
not think that your neglect of God — your want of love to 
Him — must be very reprehensible in the eyes of that just 
Judge who gave you life, and breath, and all things ?” 

There was no reply, and Miss Harrison followed up her 
advantage. 

“You say you have tried not to care for any one, but as 
a great author has remarked, ‘ The nature of love is divine 
— that is to say immortal — when we think we have destroyed 
it, we have only buried it in our hearts.’ ” 

The thin small hand sought hers now, and Miss Harrison 
felt that Jasper trembled violently. 

‘ ‘ Remember, dear, if you fail to thank God for the bless- 
ings of the day, and to ask his protection during the night, 
you are the only one under this roof who has thus dis- 
honored Him.” 

Here Jasper raised herself up in the bed, and throwing her 
arms around her friend, cried out vehemently, “Can you, 
can you forgive me ?’ ' 


42 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“ It is no matter of mine, Jasper — it is between God and 
yourself. ’ * 

“ Do you think He will forgive me ?” she sobbed out. 

“ Ask Him, Jasper.” 

The wasted figure slid down upon her knees, and with her 
head in Miss Harrison’s lap, the overburdened heart poured 
forth itself in prayer. The evil spirit was exorcised, and 
when Jasper rose up she whispered, “ I wan’t to beg Ber- 
tha’s pardon, and Katie’s too.” 

“Not now, dear Jasper,” said Miss Harrison, as she kissed 
her good-night. ‘ * To-morrow morning, after a good, refresh- 
ing sleep, you shall see them both. Try and get a good 
night’s rest, for there is something pleasant in store for you 
when you are well enough to enjoy it.” 

The following day, after Jasper had finished her breakfast, 
Miss Harrison opened the door softly. Jasper looked up 
and said, “ Have they come ?” 

“ Bertha is here, and Katie is coming,” and the words had 
hardly escaped Miss Harrison’s lips when Bertha was in the 
room and in Jasper’s arms. 

“ Oh, I was just as bad as I could be, Jasper, but I didn’t 
mean it. If you will only forgive me this time, I won’t be 
so foolish again. Just to think you saved my life after I 
had been so cross to you ! If you had died I never could 
have forgiven myself — never !” 

“.Don’t let’s talk about that,” said Jasper with a shud- 
der, “ only say you forgive me as freely as I do you, little 
Bertha. ’ ’ 

“ Forgive !” said Bertha, throwing her arms around Jas- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


43 


per’s neck again. “Why, my papa just cries fit to break 
his heart, when he tells about your struggling in the water, 
and holding on to me all the time. Forgive indeed ! I 
haven’t any thing to forgive you for, Jess. I don’t remem- 
ber anything after I tumbled out of the boat. Something 
hit me on the head just then and knocked my senses out, 
and when I came to I was lying on the bank of the river, 
and ever so many people crying over me. ’ ’ 

4 4 It was fortunate that you were insensible ; if you had 
caught me around the neck, as I was afraid you would, I 
could not have done any thing for you. ’ ’ 

44 And just to think Jess can swim !” and the little girl 
gave her another hearty squeeze. 

44 I learned how, a long time ago,’’ said Jasper. 44 I used 
to have a beautiful bathing costume, and my father taught 
me to swim and dive like a duck by the time I was eight 
years old.’’ 

44 It was a good thing he did; wasn’t it, Jess? If he 
hadn’t I wouldn’t have been here now, would I ? Papa 
says it was very bad for me to have been playing in the boat, 
but he is so glad that I am alive he hasn’t scolded me a bit 
yet.” 

By this time Katie came in, and the tender-hearted little 
thing told with tears of the remorse she had suffered when 
she thought Jasper was drowned. The reconciliation was 
complete, and the three chatted away merrily until the school- 
bell rang, and Bertha and Katie were hurried away by one 
of the teachers, who promised that they should come again 
at recess. 


44 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Now that Jasper was getting well enough to be allowed 
something else besides invalid’s fare, she was kept supplied 
with offerings of fruit and dainties sufficient to start a small 
confectionery. Teachers and scholars vied with each other 
in showing their appreciation of her conduct, and not a day 
passed that something did not happen to show her that she 
was tenderly thought of. One day Miss Harrison entered 
with a huge pile of music books, and as she laid them one by 
one on the table said, “ Now for my secret : 

“ This is Mozart — this Beethoven — this Mendelssohn,” 
and she went on calling the names of a half dozen compos- 
ers as she laid one volume upon another. There they stood 
in their bindings of crimson and gold, and Jasper’s eyes 
fairly gleamed with an eager desire to examine them. 

“ They are all yours,” said Miss Harrison. 

“ Mine ! But I do not take music-lessons. My aunt 
says it is a sin to spend so much money on what is only a 
pleasure. Oh, Miss Harrison, it is too bad ! The books 
will do me no good.” 

‘‘Yes they will. Expense has nothing to do with it. 
Read this.” 

Jasper looked at the book now open before her, and saw 
written in it : “ Presented to Jasper St. John by Carl Rein- 
berg, as a slight token of his gratitude.” 

“ And now, read this,” continued Miss Harrison, as she 
drew forth a note written in a fine German hand, in which 
the professor in his broken English expressed a desire to 
teach Jasper music, not for one session only, but for as long 
a time as she needed instruction. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 45 

“ Oh,” this is happiness !” cried Jasper, in a tremor of 
delight. I wonder if it is all a dream. ’ ’ 

“ But there is more good news, still. Katie Lee’s aunt 
wishes to take you to drive this afternoon, and Dr. Beck- 
with has consented for you to go. ’ ’ 

Jasper, remembering all at once the sad plight she was in 
after Bertha’s rescue, said, 

“ But my dress ?” 

“ Is all ready,” and Miss Harrison opened a pretty little 
wardrobe and displayed its contents. 

‘ ‘ These dresses are yours, and this pretty hat in the bar- 
gain. You are quite nicely provided with all that a school- 
girl ought to have. That good uncle of yours, Mr. Grant- 
land, commissioned me to purchase what was necessary for 
you, so I used my own taste and see the result.” 

But Jasper could not see for the film that came over her 
eyes. 

“ Just to think,” she murmured, “ I said God did not love 
me /” and she buried her face in her hands, and the last rem- 
nant of her hard heart melted away. 

So much good news had a happy effect on Jasper — it was 
better than medicine. In a short time her eyes began to 
look less hollow, and a faint tinge of wholesome color crept 
into her cheeks, until little by little youth conquered disease, 
and she was pronounced well. How quickly had passed the 
time in that snug little chamber at Dr. Beckwith’s ! How 
cozy and bright it seemed when the girls came in after school, 
to tell all that had transpired, and to laugh and chat and 
have a merry time until the bell for study called them away. 


/ 


46 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Jasper’s heart palpitated violently the first day she re- 
turned to her classes, but when Dr. Beckwith called her to 
him, and presented her with an elegant copy of poems, add- 
ing that it was the gift of the school, and a token of their ad- 
miration of her heroic conduct, Jasper could scarcely stam- 
mer out her thanks. 

“ And to think how I hated the whole world,” she said to 
herself in the privacy of her own room that night ; “ how I 
wished that I could die, if only I could make others sorry 
that they had mistreated me. Oh, suppose I had sunk in 
the water never to rise again ? Once I was almost gone — 
getting deaf and blind — and I thought I heard my mother 
calling me, and I tried to answer back, ‘ I cannot come, 
mother — I am not ready. No, not ready for heaven yet,’ 
and my tongue got dry and would not speak. Then all was 
dark — so dark !” And thus communing with herself Jasper 
turned upon her pillow and fell asleep, and dreamt that an 
angel floated down from the blue of heaven, and, whispering 
in her ear, ‘ ‘ God is love, ’ ’ bore her far away towards the 
pearly gates which stood ajar. 

Probably every one has experienced, some time or other, 
an undefinable mental depression upon being suddenly trans- 
ferred from a circle of appreciative friends, and domiciled 
under the roof of a person of a cold and ungenial nature. 
That person may be punctilious in all the little courtesies 
of life, and yet you will perfectly understand that you are 
not held in high regard. In course of time the chilling at- 
mosphere which such a person throws around you, seems to 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


47 


permeate your very soul, until you begin to doubt your- 
self, and to question whether, after all, you are not a very 
sorry specimen of humanity. Such was the state of Jasper’s 
mind on her return to Mr. Grantland’s. How very oppres- 
sive the quiet was! The ticking of the clock could be heard 
all over the lower part of the house. Sophy was always 
busy in the kitchen, and Hester seemed to have volumes of 
writing to do for the Woman’s Humane Society. As 
Ephraim Grantland was more and more absorbed in busi- 
ness, Jasper rarely saw him except at the breakfast or tea- 
table ; she had not, therefore, been tempted to make him her 
confidant in regard to the music-lessons. She felt sure that 
he would only think it kind of Professor Reinberg to take so 
much pains with her, and to allow her to practice on his 
own Grand Knabe piano ; but what would her aunt Hester 
say ? It would be a doubtful experiment to sound her on 
the subject, so Jasper hugged her secret to her heart in si- 
lence, and gloated over the approval of a severe task-master, 
who declared that he found in Jasper the germ of all that he 
desired in a musician. 


48 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Jasper’s school days were at last over. She had stepped 
upon the threshold of womanhood and entered upon that 
stage of her existence, which, with most persons, is so filled 
with hopes, shrinking fears, and youthful dreams. Although 
her training under Hester Grantland’s roof had not been 
such as to stimulate her faith, her reverence, or her affec- 
tion, she had at least grown up outside of that fashionable 
world which finds its chief enjoyment in a perpetual round 
of frivolity. Fortunately for Jasper, the quiet monotony of 
home, combined with the healthy influence of Miss Harri- 
son, encouraged in her a habit of thought which stimulated 
her to a higher aim, and aroused in her an intense desire to 
launch upon life’s broad ocean with a purpose. What that 
purpose would be she had as yet no definite idea, but she 
resolved to fit herself for whatever path in life God appoint- 
ed, and to enter upon it with a brave heart and a determina- 
tion not to faint under the burden and heat of the day. 
We are told that the secret of man’s professional power is 
that he has an aim. A modern writer has said it must be 
the same with woman. She need not have a professional 
career in view, nor need she preside over a “Woman’s 
Rights Society,’’ she may be ever so retiring and unobtru- 
sive, and yet she may have an aim. As to what that aim 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


49 


will be, she must question her own heart and capabilities. 
It may be only to fill the humble sphere in which God has 
placed her, and to be true to her womanhood, or it may be 
to shed a lustre over some dreary household and cheer the 
last hours of the aged invalid, still it will be an aim that will 
strengthen and develop the character while it enlarges the 
heart. Many a woman born and reared in affluence pines 
and sickens in a torpid, listless state for the want of an ob- 
ject in life. She had best make use of the talent she has, if 
it is only for working button-holes. It may be that she will 
cultivate in that homely work a patience, which may some 
day grow sublime when applied to nobler ends. It is much 
better to make use of the small occasions of life, than to sit 
with folded hands waiting for some grand event to call forth 
the latent energies. The grand event may never come, or, 
if it does, one who has neglected the smaller opportunities 
may not be equal to the greater ones. “ Work is better for 
what it is than what it does. ’ * So sings the poet and this is 
truth. Work is the antidote of morbid thoughts, the medi- 
cine of soul and body, and although it may not always be 
pleasant, it is almost sure in time to produce agreeable re- 
sults, just as the wholesome bitter of the cinchona tree re- 
stores and invigorates the bodily system. 

Abel Grantland was coming home from college. The 
house was in some confusion in expectation of his arrival, 
and one of the best rooms was being prepared for his cham- 
ber. Sophy Gregg had bleached the bed-linen to a dazzling 
whiteness, and even Hester Grantland had burnt her fingers 
fluting the snowy pillow-cases. Ephraim Grantland’ s dar- 


50 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


ling idea was to establish a branch of his mercantile house 
in London. This plan was on the eve of accomplishment, 
and his partner, Mr. Arnold, was even now preparing to sail 
for Europe. This move was only preparatory towards turn- 
ing over the London branch to Abel, so soon as he should 
have completed his education. The world said it was 
strange that an only son was not settled . at home, but then 
there was money in it, and ‘ 4 money was king. ’ ’ J asper could 
not help wondering how the expectant heir would behave 
toward her, now that she had attained the dignity of woman- 
hood, and inwardly hoped that the teasing boy had not de- 
veloped into the disagreeable man. But why should she 
care ! She had a plenty to occupy her in her ‘ 4 sky parlor, * ’ 
as she called her room ; books to review, music to dream of, 
and since Mrs. Grantland had turned over to her a huge 
trunk with the name of Adelaide St. John printed on one 
end, Jasper found much occupation with her needle. In 
this same trunk were dresses which had belonged to her 
beautiful mother, many of them only half worn. To re- 
model them was no slight task, but it was worth the trouble, 
for there were soft rich silks and handsome laces a duchess 
might have envied. It was well that Jasper inherited that 
mother’s exquisite taste, and could finish off things so dain- 
tily. The talent rendered her quite independent of the fash- 
ionable mantua-maker, and when Mrs. Arnold, who was 
quite the “ thermometer of fashion,” saw the tasteful fichus, 
jabots, etc., that came from the young girl’s fingers, she jest- 
ingly remarked, “ The world had lost a milliner in Jasper.” 
Though never encouraged by her aunt to do so, she often, 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


51 


from a child, assisted Sophy Gregg about her household 
work, and Sophy had declared to more than one person that 
“there wasn’t a lazy bone in Jasper St. John’s body.’’ 
Poor Sophy was looking sadly worried ; the work had crowd- 
ed her all day ; added to that, the stove was too hot, and had 
burnt her pies ; so, tired out at last, she sat down with an 
aching head. Just at this moemnt Jasper opened the 
kitchen door, and said, cheerily : 

“ What, broken down ?” 

“Just clean busted up, body and bones,’’ replied Sophy, 
“ and no end of work to do yet.’’ 

“ Poor, dear old Sophy,’’ said Jasper, patting her on the 
shoulder. “ Never mind — here’s a pair of hands to help 
you.’’ 

“ Poor little hands,’’ said Sophy, “ but they’ve done me 
some good turns to be sure ; only they are too white — too 
white.’’ 

“ Not to set the table for tea,’’ replied Jasper, “ nor to 
cut the bread, nor to sweep and dust, nor — ’ ’ 

“ Sweep and dust ? sakes alive, there’s that room of Mr. 
Abel’s not dusted yet, and he to be here at six o’clock in the 
mornin’,’’ and Sophy Gregg groaned aloud. 

“ Oh, well, don’t fret,’’ said Jasper. “ Sit still and rest 
yourself, and I will finish up things for you. You’ve helped 
me many a time.’’ 

“ Well, that’s a fact, and I believe you may just do as 
you say, for I am clean knocked up with the heat ; but 
mind you don’t slice the bread a shavin’ too thick, and mind 
when you put the silver tea-pot on the table you don’t turn 


52 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


the handle an inch too far to the right — you know Mrs. 
Grantland is very partikler — and mind when you dust Mr. 
Abel’s room to put the linen pillow-cases on, and set ’em up 
endways — so — and mind you get all done before Mrs. 
Grantland comes back.” 

” All right — I know,” said Jasper, as she went into the 
dining-room and commenced her task there. 

It was not long ere she was through with the downstairs 
work, and, with broom and dusting feathers, went to the 
newly-furnished room. “ It certainly is sweet,” thought 
Jasper, as she opened the door, and passed on to the little 
study into which the chamber opened. All the neat arrange- 
ments of thoughtful affection reminded her that she had once 
been a mother’s pride ; she also was an only child ; but 
gradually these sad reflections were crowded out by other 
thoughts, and soon she was singing a low song as she dusted 
the books and replaced them in their mahogany case. The 
task was at last finished, and so intent had she been upon its 
completion that she had not caught the sound of approach- 
ing footsteps, neither had she heard the creaking of the door 
as it opened behind her. She turned, and stood face to face 
with a young man. As she posed herself in an attitude of 
dignified surprise, for one moment only was she in doubt as 
to who the intruder might be. Was it possible ? Could it 
be Abel ? Where was the broad-brimmed hat — the Quaker 
costume ? Where, in fact, the Abel of three years ago ? In 
the mind of the latter such cogitations as the following were 
going on : “A good-looking girl to be sure ! A proud-look- 
ing one in the bargain. I wonder if she will order me out of 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 53 

my own room.” The two gazed at each other for a second, 
and Abel was the first to speak. 

“ I believe this used to be my little cousin Jasper, and as 
such I claim a cousin’s privilege — a kiss.” 

” Excuse me,” said Jasper, drawing back coldly, and sim- 
ply extending her hand while a faint color crept to her 
cheeks. “ We were not expecting you at this time. I hope 
you will pardon my intrusion in your apartment. ’ ’ 

Abel was baffled, and not a little piqued, but, with an air 
of assumed nonchalance, replied, “Oh, of course, if your 
serene majesty will only excuse my existence, which seems 
to annoy you. In truth, I am out of time, according to the 
telegram received from me, but the mistake was made by the 
operator, not by myself. Forget the cause of my unexpect- 
ed advent, however, and imagine that I was impatient to see 
my fond relatives, yourself among the number.” 

“ Quite likely,” said Jasper, with an amused smile, and 
starting to leave the room at the same time. 

“Not so fast, cousin,” said Abel planting himself be- 
tween Jasper and the door. ” Where are you going ?” 

“ To the attic. You have heard of the Attic Philoso- 
phers, have you not ?’ ’ 

“ Why, yes, but I always imagined each one to be a genius 
of famine, a superannuated piece of anatomy, while you — 
but I judge by the bit of color in your face you think I am 
bordering on the complimentary. Do you continue to in- 
habit the attic ?” 

“ Yes.” 

‘ 1 Why pray ?’ ’ 


54 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“ Your mother so arranged it.” 

“ It shall be otherwise.” 

“ I won’t move,” answered Jasper decidedly. 

“You may be all won’t, but I am all will,” replied Abel. 
“ I want the attic myself. We will exchange — you shall oc- 
cupy this room.” 

“ Quite likely,” said Jasper again. 

Abel folded his arms, and gazing full in her face said, 
“ Are there but two words in your vocabulary ? Do you 
think to please or to pique me by your laconic style of con- 
versation ?’ ’ 

“ I have not been thinking of you at all.” 

“Quite likely,” said Abel in turn; “you have been 
thinking of me, and thinking ill of me, what is more ; but 
let bygones be bygones. Suppose we begin life anew — let’s 
be friends.” 

, “ We have never been enemies,” Jasper replied. 

“Not exactly, but there has been a tacit sort of misun- 
derstanding between us. Upon the altar of our reconcilia- 
tion I tender my thanks also for your tasteful arrangement 
of my domicile.” 

“ I do not deserve them,” replied Jasper, “as I under- 
took the duty simply to relieve Sophy. Allow me to pass if 
you please ; my aunt has returned and is calling me.” But 
before Abel could move aside Mrs. Grantland opened the 
door, and ere she embraced her son, darted a stern and in- 
dignant glance at Jasper, who passed out as she entered. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


55 


CHAPTER VIII. 

There was a cloud upon Mrs. Grantland’s brow. Abel 
had left off the Quaker garb. He had also dropped the 
plain language and never used “ thee” and “ thou,” except 
when speaking to his parents. Hester had not foreseen that 
such would be the result of a liberal education, and a more 
free intercourse with men, and although she said nothing, 
she felt some apprehension that a taint of the world might 
creep into her well-organized family circle. As Abel had 
inherited some of his mother’s traits, she now realized that 
she had encountered a will quite as unbending as her own. 

” Thy father is getting old,” said Mrs. Grantland, “ thee 
must make ready to take the care of the business off of his 
hands.” 

To which Abel replied, ” I have no taste for a mercantile 
life ; there is money enough in the family, and the business 
had better be wound up altogether. ’ ’ 

” But thee will marry some day ; a fortune disappears in 
long division. When thee marries, my son, choose thee a 
wife who will be thy help-meet, not one of the dainty-fin- 
gered women,” and Mrs. Grantland’s eyes almost uncon- 
sciously fell upon Jasper’s hand as she cut a slice of bread 
for Abel. 

* ‘ Thee need not concern thyself about the marrying, 


56 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


mother. I’d as soon be a bachelor as not. Thee had bet- 
ter turn thy attention to mating J asper, ’ ’ added Abel some- 
what jocosely. 

“ That would be hard to do,’ said Jasper. 

“ What, do you mean that you cannot be mated, or you 
will not be ?” 

“ I mean that I will mate myself,” said Jasper, with a 
threatening look out of her eyes. 

“ Hoity, toity ! what wonderful women come out of the 
South ! How soft the voice sometimes — how powerful the 
will all times ! Well, well, we won’t quarrel about possibili- 
ties, or rather impossibilities, for the victim has not appear- 
ed on the tapis yet, has he mother ?’ ’ said Abel. 

Mrs. Grantland looked up with a curious expression, but 
was silent. 

The glowing color that mounted Jasper’s cheek gave evi- 
dence of the struggle within. She left the table and seated 
herself in the deep bay window in the library. There, with 
pencil in hand, she proceeded to copy, though with trem- 
bling fingers, an extract which had been promised Miss 
Harrison. 

Abel soon joined his cousin, and resumed his bantering 
tone. 

” I admire your taste for books,” said he, “ but really I 
think you are too young to write one.” 

“ Do you ?” said Jasper with provoking composure. 

“ Come, put up your pen, you are forever writing. Don’t 
be a blue-stocking. Besides, there is ink on your thumb.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


57 


“ There was ink on her thumb when I kissed her hand. 

And she whispered, ‘ if you should die 
I will write an epitaph glowing and grand.’ ” 

Jasper having finished her extract, folded her paper and 
replaced the book in its case. 

“ Sit down, cousin, I wish to talk to you. What is your 
opinion of the career my parents have marked out for me ?” 

“ Women cannot judge for men,” replied Jasper evasively. 

“ Ah, I see you do not take the cousinly interest in me 
that I do in you. In spite of your indifference I volunteer 
the advice again, don’t write a book.” 

“ There is no danger.” 

“ I beg your pardon ; I have been studying the bent of 
your mind ; I fear there is. ’ ’ 

“ Perhaps you know best then,” said Jasper. 

“ Provoking girl ! Do I not see that you are cherishing 
a mystery ? There is too much character about you to lie 
always concealed under that suppressed manner ; your ar- 
dent Southern nature flashes from your eyes and carries con- 
viction to my mind more powerful than words. You cannot 
fool me. ’ ’ 

” I do not wish to.” 

” And you are not writing a book ?” 

” Of course not. Why do you think so ?” 

“ Because from your tone of conversation I think that you 
have chosen a career. Woman has but three resources for a 
livelihood — the needle, the school-room, and the pen. You 
would prefer the latter. ” 

“ Of course, had I the power to wield it.” 


58 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“ Power ! Ay, there’s the point — but trash is the order 
of the day in fiction. The novel is the only field of litera- 
ture open to the effort of woman. Even there she fails if 
she steps beyond her domain and prates of science and re- 
ligion.” 

” I do not agree with you entirely. Woman is eminently 
fitted to speak of religion. Science she may let alone ; and 
the contrarieties of science and religion all had best let alone. ’ ’ 

“ Ah, I see, you recollect our last conversation on the 
subject. That last sentence was a home thrust.” 

” Whom the cap fits let him wear it.” 

“ Of course. I adjust it upon my own head with satis- 
faction ; but is it possible that in the contest between re- 
ligion and science, you mean to say you do not fear for re- 
ligion ?” 

” Certainly I say that, and more. Science is travelling 
she knows not whither ; and as a modern writer has said, 
she knows nothing absolutely and finally, and since even the 
law of gravitation has been recently called a conjecture, pos- 
terity may pity our ignorance on that subject, just as we pity 
those who scorned Columbus when he said that the world 
was round.” 

The approach of Mrs. Grantland prevented a reply from 
Abel, who was well aware of his mother’s intolerance of such 
discussions. While he played nervously with the ball of 
cotton with which Jasper was crocheting he therefore re- 
sumed his bantering tone. 

” And you will not tell me what your plans are ? You 
decline authorship, and you are not to be classed with those 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


59 


women who enter the great world on a campaign of con- 
quest or an excursion of pleasure. Jasper, you have grown 
to be a mystery. ’ ’ 

“ Which only time can unravel,” added Jasper laughing. 

“ There, that was uttered quite naturally. Your counten- 
ance lighted up with an expression more speaking than 
words. The well-shaped head was thrown slightly back — 
the lips parted with an amused smile — ahem — an item for a 
novel, if I write one you shall be my heroine, only how 
should I manage you in the love scenes. What of the grand 
passion — eh ?” 

” I will tell you when I have met with an object to inspire 
it.” 

‘ ‘ If thee intends to dust thy room thee had better be about 
it,” put in Mrs. Grantland drily. ” The clock has struck 
ten, and Sophy has gone to market.” 

Jasper was glad to escape from Abel's personalities, and 
was not slow in obeying her aunt’s injunction. Once secure 
of the quiet of her own room, she drew a long sigh of relief. 
It was true that she had worked out a career for herself, but 
her secret had not been confided to any one under Hester 
Grantland’ s roof. Was not her uncle absorbed in making 
money, and who cared what became of her ? 


6o 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


CHAPTER IX. 

There was a piano in Hester Grantland’s parlor. It did 
not occupy its place* however, through any consent of her’s. 
Mr. Arnold had asked permission to store it there during 
his absence in Europe ; and Ephraim Grantland, who enter- 
tained liberal ideas on the subject of amusements had con- 
sented. As Hester was out when the instrument arrived, 
Jasper was asked where it should be placed. 

As soon as Mrs. Grantland laid eyes upon the objection- 
able article of furniture, she ordered its removal to the 
darkest corner of the back parlor, and as if to exorcise the 
spirit of music which dwelt in the chords of the instrument, 
she laid upon its embossed covering the huge Bible of that 
ancestor who had been hanged for his adherence to the 
Quaker religion. 

No one was ever haunted by such an intense desire to 
make music as Jasper was at this time. We may attribute 
this as much to the perversity of human nature as to any 
thing else, for ever since the sin of our first parents, a thing 
has only to be forbidden to be desired. She went daily to 
Dr. Beckwith’s Seminary to practice the difficult sonatas 
in which Prof. Reinberg accompanied her on the violin ; but 
that was not like having the music all to herself, and her 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 6 t 

fingers fairly itched to be gliding over the cold white keys of 
the grand piano that had been put out of sight. 

But the elasticity of youth asserted itself even under these 
adverse circumstances, and Jasper was buoyed up by a hope 
which had become the darling wish of her heart, Alas, a 
day of disappointment came, and her fate seemed decided 
in a few cold words. The note enclosed her ran thus : 

“ I am sorry for the young, lady, but the place of governess 
has been supplied, 

" Respectfully, etc., 

“ J. MakdeVille." 

Oh, how cruel and cold the words seemed ! Jasper crushed 
the letter in her fingers. 

“ Sorry for the young lady!” The curl of her lip showed 
how little confidence she placed in Mr. Mandeville’s sympa- 
thy. The expression of intense disappointment upon her 
countenance had riveted the attention of Abel, and although 
she did not look towards him she felt the searching gaze of 
his keen dark eyes as she tried to slip the note in her pocket, 

* * A secret correspondence, ’ ’ he exclaimed, as with folded 
arms he seemed determined to read her thoughts. 

“Yes, but harmless/’ replied Jasper, with an attempt at 
unconcern. 

“ I doubt it," replied Abel. 

“.I do not understand you,” said Jasper, coloring still 
more under his fixed gaze, 

“ Is that really so ?" 

“ Positively, I do not know what you mean/' 

** Take my advice/’ said Abel ; “ do not throw yourself 


62 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


away upon an adventurer. I speak of that fellow Rein- 
berg.” 

“ Reinberg !” exclaimed Jasper, while she laughed until 
the tears came into her eyes. “ The dear old Professor ! 
Oh, how very funny ! Who would have thought such an 
idea could enter your head ! Why, he is much more in 
love with his crochets and quavers than he ever will be with 
any living thing. No, no, he will never marry again. Even 
if he did he would certainly never think of me whom he has 
always regarded as a child. ’ ’ 

“I’m not sure of that. Why does he come here asking 
for you alone and refusing to leave note or message if you 
are out ? He came twice this morning. I offered myself to 
be the bearer of the billet doux ; but no — he would return 
again — he would prefer seeing you yourself. My mother 
told me some time ago her opinion of the state of the 
case, and I think she would rather encourage the affair. 
To be sure it is no matter of mine, but (here Abel colored 
slightly) you are very young. I would not take a leap in 
the dark if I were in your place. ’ * 

Jasper could not keep back the hot, angry blood that 
surged through her veins. ‘ ‘ Matrimony has not as yet come 
into my calculations,” said she ; “ moreover, I cannot im- 
agine any condition of circumstances that would drive me 
into a marriage without love. My aunt must excuse me. I 
acknowledge a warm friendship between Prof. Reinberg and 
myself, and look upon him as a benefactor ; as to his visit 
this morning, it was in regard to a matter about which I en- 
joined the strictest secrecy.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


63 


These words were uttered by Jasper with a tremor in her 
voice which was more apparent the more she strove to hide it, 
and the effort she made to suppress all emotion was not un- 
noticed by Abel, who listened to her statement of the case in 
gloomy silence. 

To rush into the fresh air and get rid of her angry feel- 
ings was Jasper’s first impulse after this interview. A brisk 
walk on a bright cool day is a wonderful antidote to dis- 
agreeable thoughts, and after her morning’s stroll Jasper 
returned to Mrs. Grantland’s in a much calmer mood, and 
almost ready to laugh at herself for allowing her excitement 
to get the better of her in Abel’s presence. As she mount- 
ed the stairs which led to her own room, she met Sophy 
with various articles of apparel thrown across her arm. 
Jasper recognized these as her own, and at the same time 
did not fail to note that the expression of Sophy’s counteance 
indicated decided disapprobation. 

“ Where are you taking my clothes ?” asked Jasper, step- 
ping in front of her. 

“ Where, to be sure !” exclaimed Sophy, her rage getting 
the better of her prudence. “ The truth is, I don’t know 
where I am a takin’ ’em. There’s Mrs. Grantland comes 
to me with her orders, and then there’s Mr. Abel comes to 
me with his, an’ both of ’em gone off for the day, an’ what 
am I to do ?” 

“ Tell me ; perhaps I can help you.” 

“ What can you do ? The house don’t belong to you.” 

” But the clothes belong to me, and I can do what I 
choose with my own.” 


64 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


44 Well, it is this way, ” and Sophy Gregg sat down on the 
stairs, and with one hand on her side, panted for a moment, 
by way of letting off her anger, before beginning her story. 
"‘Mrs. Grantland comes to me an’ says, ‘ Sophy, move 
everything out of the attic. ’ Says I, ‘ Where to ?’ Says she, 
" Move your own things to the room over the kitchen, an’ 
the others (she meant yours) to the little room at the top 
of the stairs.’ Says I, ‘ That place ; why, it’s no more than 
a cuddy-hole ; a body’ll have to go outside of it if they want 
to turn round in it. ' Mrs. Grantland says, ‘ Do as I tell 
you, and what is more/ says she, 4 Mr. Abel wants the attic 
himself. See you don’t misplace his books and papers when 
you move them, * and with this out she goes. Then here 
comes along Mr. Abel. He sees me a movin’ your things in 
the little room, an’ wants to know what I'm a doin’ with 
’em, an' when I tell him he gets into a towerin' rage, an’ 
says they are to be put in the room he has been a stayin’ in, 
an’ says he, ' Miss St. John and myself are going to ex- 
change rooms.' (Yes, he called you Miss St. John.) An' 
says I, * I guess she don’t know it, an’ I’m a goin’ to do 
what Mrs. Grantland told me.’ But what must he do but 
quietly take all the things out of the cuddy-hole (’tain’t noth- 
in’ else), lock the door to keep me out, put the key in his 
pocket, an’ tells me to * have Miss St. John’s room ready 
by the time she comes back,’ and so he goes out ; now ain’t 
I in a pretty fix?” 

“ Not at all. I'll take the matter in my own hands. 
Where did you say you were to move ?’ ’ 

44 Over the kitchen, an’ won’t I roast ?” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


65 


4 ‘ Are there not two beds in that room Y ’ 

4 4 To be sure there are, but what good will two beds do 
me ?" 

“ Take my clothes to that room,” said Jasper, disregard- 
ing the latter part of Sophy’s remark. 

44 My goodness, I ain’t goin’ to do it ; Mr. Abel would be 
mad enough to tar and feather me. Didn’t I overhear him 
tellin’ his mother it looked bad for you to be a sleepin’ in 
the room with the hired help ; an’ didn’t he forbid me callin’ 
of you Jasper ? It must be Miss St. John, or Miss Jasper. 
It’s my opinion he’s monstrous set up since he’s been to 
college. I ain’t got no use for none such.” 

All this was a revelation to Jasper, but recovering her sur- 
prise she took the pile of clothes off of Sophy’s arm, saying, 
44 If you won’t do what I want you to, I will move every 
thing myself. ’ ’ 

44 An’ you won’t stay in the big bed-room, new papered 
for Mr. Abel with all the fine fixins in it ?” 

4 4 Certainly not. ’ ’ 

44 An’ you can’t sleep in the ‘cuddy.’ Mr. Abel’s got 
the key. ’ ’ But Jasper was out of hearing, and there was noth- 
ing left for Sophy to do but to follow the self-willed girl. 

This she did, grumbling no little as she went. 44 Well, 
they may settle it themselves. It’s all tooken out of my 
hands. It’s my opinion it was a downright selfish thing to 
go and take a fancy to the attic, when no end of money had 
been spent in doin’ up t’other room for him. Yes, I heard 
him tellin’ Mrs. Grantland, and he wanted more light ; that 
the attic was the very place for him. I don’t believe it. It 


66 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


was nothin’ but meanness to turn out Jas. — yes, I will say it 
— Jasper, Jasper, Jasper — and there’s Mrs. Grantland ; I 
believe she’d have his bed made on top of the house if he 
wanted it. But my — won’t things be in a stew when they 
come back ! But let ’em fight it out ; ’tain’t my stew — no, 
'tain’t my stew. As for Jasper, I don’t know what’s got into 
her, neither. She’s just a goin’ on lately as if she had the 
world in a sling. Maybe she’s goin’ crazy. Didn’t I read 
in the paper yesterday of a beautiful girl who had gone de- 
ranged and drowned herselj in a black silk dress an ’ a pair of 
gold ear-rings. Jasper won’t do that, I hope, but don’t I re- 
member the fuss about the snow ! Well, poor thing, I won’t 
say nothin’ more. No, no, I’ll be mum, although she is a 
lordin’ it over me like the Queen of Sheba.” 


CHAPTER X. 

The weather had turned fearfully hot. The room over 
the kitchen was small, and had but one window in it, and 
Sophy was snoring so loudly in her bed that no human be- 
ing could turn a deaf ear to the disturbance. Jasper could 
not sleep. She tossed about, vainly striving to shut out 
time — past, present, and future. The clock struck eleven, 
then twelve — still no sleep came. At one the moon rose, 
and as it climbed higher and higher in the heavens, Jasper 
calmed down a little under the faint breeze that stole 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


67 


through the narrow casement. Her head was throbbing, 
and her hands were hot and dry, and although the ex- 
citement of thought had subsided, she was haunted by 
strains of music which seemed to chase each other in 
rapid succession through her brain, alternately grave, gay, 
and wild. She rose out of bed, and, throwing a light wrapper 
around her sat at the window. Still those phantom strains 
went on in her imagination. It was tantalizing, for the 
harmony was never completed. As a mocking bird will 
sometimes dash from one cadence to another, never fin- 
ishing any particular one, so the spirit of music seemed to 
sport with Jasper’s brain and play upon the chords of her 
soul. Musicians of a highly nervous temperament are often 
tortured thus in spells of fever, and I have known a lady 
(who was a passionate lover of music) to be so haunted by a 
tune as to be driven almost to desperation. The clock 
struck two ; the house was still as death, and not a sound 
was heard in the street. “ Oh, for one hour’s sleep !” ex- 
claimed Jasper. But no. That soul music was still going 
on. Three deep chords of Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata 
scarcely vibrated through her being ere they were chased 
away by the brilliant roulade of some opera of the Italian 
school, this in turn to be dispelled by the ** mysterioso” 
of Gottschalk’s “ Last Hope.” 

“ This is maddening!” exclaimed Jasper, pressing both 
hands to her aching temples. “ I shall go wild !” 

She clasped her belt a little closer around her slender 
waist, and opening the door softly, stole out of the room 
and down the narrow stairway. Her slippers were loose, 


68 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


and one dropped off, which caused Sophy to start and stop 
snoring for a second ; but soon the nasal accompaniment to 
her slumbers was resumed, and Jasper tied up her slipper 
and crept on. She passed through the kitchen, then the 
small room adjoining it, then the dining-room. Here she 
paused. Mrs. Grantland’s room was directly overhead. 
Jasper pressed her hand to her forehead. “ What am I do- 
ing ? What if I should waken my aunt ! Pshaw ! she cannot 
hear me ! My uncle is away, and as for Abel, he is sleep- 
ing soundly in the attic, and full well I know that sound does 
not penetrate there from below. I will — I must go on!” 

So Jasper opened the dining-room door which led into a 
long hall. Ephraim Grantland’s house was an old-fash- 
ioned one. The hall led to a wing quite far removed from 
the sleeping-rooms, and the aforesaid wing contained the 
two parlors. 

Jasper was at last safe in the front room, where, with firm 
resolve, she placed both hands upon the silver knobs of the 
folding doors ; they slid back under her touch. Strange 
the windows were open in the back parlor. How rash ! It 
was a great piece of neglect in Sophy. They must be closed 
at all hazards ; but what if their creaking should rouse the 
household ? She tried the sash, and the window came down 
softly. 

“ Now for it,” said Jasper to herself. 

She went to the grand piano, unlocked it, turned the 
stool to its proper height, and took her seat. 

She touched the chords softly at first, but gathering con- 
fidence, liquid music rippled from her fingers in such a gush 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


69 


of harmony that she lost all sense of time, place, or danger. 
The throbbing in her temples ceased ; she laughed for very 
joy as she gave vent to the soul’s phantom strains. 

44 Now I shall sleep,” said Jasper, as, having played her 
fill, she closed the instrument and retraced her steps to her 
room. 

One, two, three, struck the great clock in Union Square, 
and Jasper threw herself on her bed and slept soundly, but 
not too soundly to dream that the spheres were moving to 
the grand diapason of one of Beethoven’s compositions, 
while Hester Grantland executed a fantasia upon the piano, 
seated on the crater of Mount Vesuvius. 

Jasper felt guilty the next morning. She fancied Mrs. 
Grantland observed the redness of her eyes, and what on 
earth had gotten into Abel ? He would not look at her, and 
scarcely spoke a word during breakfast. Later in the day, 
however, Jasper came to the conclusion that her fears were 
groundless. Music was an innocent pastime, except in her 
aunt’s eyes. Why should she not enjoy it ? So night after 
night Jasper, when all were asleep, stole to the far-off wing 
of the house and regaled herself with rare and delicious 
“ Nocturnes.” She reasoned that even should Mrs. Grant- 
land hear the sounds in her waking moments, she would 
never divine that they came from her own house, especially 
as her neighbor over the way was in the habit of indulging 
in music at all times of the day and night. The moon was 
growing old ; Jasper must make the best of its light, as a 
lamp would attract attention. How provoking that Sophy 
would not go to bed ! In reply to Sophy’s question as to 


7o 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


whether she was going to undress, or whether she would sit 
at the window all night with her clothes on, Jasper said, 
rather shortly, “ she thought she would sit at the window,” 
whereupon Sophy rejoined, “ Some folks say some folks 
like to look at the moon because there’s a man in it, but 
for my part I don’t care to see one even that far off,” and 
with this assertion she commenced her preparations for her 
slumbers. Once fairly asleep, Jasper soon heard the sig- 
nal of safety in her heavy breathing, and took advan- 
tage of it to hasten to her enchanted palace. She was grow- 
ing more venturesome every night, and even had the hardi- 
hood to try the accompaniment of a song. Yes, she would 
sing ; something seemed impelling her to do so. 

“Tears, idle tears, I know not what you mean. 

Tears from the depths of some divine despair.” 

Jasper paused ; she fancied she heard a noise ; but no, it 
was only the window-shutter which had turned a little on its 
hinge. She resumed her song and finished it. Again she 
heard a sound ; there was no mistaking it this time. Some 
one was in the room, and Jasper sprang from her seat. 
From the narrow recess between the wall and book-case, 
which lay in deep shadow, a figure emerged. 

Jasper stood in the broad stream of moonlight which fell 
athwart the floor. She looked like a marble statue in her 
pure white dress and with her hair coiled in the Grecian 
style low at the back of her head. 

The unknown intruder approached, took her hand. She 
passively submitted, for so great had been the shock she 
had not strength to resist. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. Ji 

“ Jasper, Jasper ! be not alarmed. Waken ! It is I — it 
is Abel." 

Still Jasper stirred not. While she stood there she real- 
ized that her cousin imagined her to be walking in her sleep, 
and that he supposed her music to be the result of mental 
phenomena peculiar to the somnambulist. 

Why might she not let him go on thinking so. It might 
save trouble. No, she would not deceive him. 

“ Jasper,” said Abel, with real concern, “ dear Jasper, 
waken. I will lead you back to your room. You are trem- 
bling and might meet with some accident. I will carry you 
then" said Abel, decidedly, after having waited in vain for a 
response ; and he made a motion as if he would take her in 
his arms. 

” I am not asleep,” said Jasper, pushing him off with both 
hands. 

Abel bent down and looked into her eyes to assure him- 
self of that fact. There was no glassy stare about them as 
is usual with the sleep-walker. 

” It was because I could not sleep that I came here,” con- 
tinued Jasper, observing that her cousin was silent from pro- 
found astonishment. 

“ And do you mean to say that you possess this marvel- 
lous gift at all times, and that it is no freak of a disordered 
brain ?” 

“ No gift, but the result of hard study, practice, some 
talent, and the stimulus of a severe but kind task-master.” 

“ And who was that ?” 

” Professor Reinberg.” 


72 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


44 Aha, the wretch ! And this is the way he has been try- 
ing to steal into your heart ?” 

44 No, this is the way he has tried to pay a debt he im- 
agines he owes me. ’ * 

‘ ‘ And you accept pay for an imaginary debt T ' 

4 4 I did not say so. I accept a favor if it gives one pleas- 
ure to bestow it.” 

44 Not always ! Jasper, do you hate me ?” 

” What an absurd question ! Why do you ask ?” 

44 Because you have grieved me beyond measure. To 
make a long story short, I wanted you to come down from 
your eyrie in the attic, and I feigned a fondness for it my- 
self, whereupon you totally misunderstood the whole 
thing, and persist in cremating yourself over the kitchen. 
Atone for this. Give me one more song ; I dearly love 
music. * * 

44 Is this a dream?” said Jasper, mechanically allowing 
herself to be led to the seat at the piano, while she pressed 
one hand to her forehead. 

44 Not a fleeting one at any rate,” replied Abel, gently lift- 
ing the other hand and placing it on the keys. 

4 4 Play on ; I want one more song, and after that the wild 
air you played the first night I listened to you.” 

44 The first night 1 when ?” 

4 4 The night you found the windows open. I had taken 
refuge here because I fancied this room was cooler than any 
other spot. I heard your footsteps, and concealed myself in 
order that I might spring unawares upon the supposed bur- 
glar. I have been watching for you every night since. I 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 73 

feared that some harm might come to you, but could not 
resist the desire to enjoy your wonderful music." 

Jasper’s fingers unwittingly ran into a sad low melody. 

“ That passage seems to me a musical epitome of my 
whole life. I want to catch the strain in order that I may 
carry it with me wherever I go. You know I leave to-mor- 
row for an absence of a month or two. When I return it 
will be to arrange for my final departure. There ! I think 
I have it," said Abel, whistling an accompaniment towards 
the finale. " What do you call the piece ?" 

"It has no name." 

" Who is the composer?" 

" I am." 

" You ? It reminds me of a beautiful poem of Faber’s," 
and Abel, seated by his cousin in the moonlight, repeated, 

“ That music breathes all through my spirit 
As the breezes blow through a tree, 

And my soul gives light as it quivers 
Like moons on a tremulous sea.” 

“ Hush ! There are footsteps," said Jasper. 

Abel paused to listen. It was true. Nearer and nearer 
they came, and now they heard not only footsteps but voices, 
and the next moment Mrs. Grantland, accompanied by Sophy 
Gregg bearing the light, opened the door. 

The countenance of the latter betokened bewildered aston- 
ishment, but Mrs. Grantland’ s face indexed only silent rage. 

‘ ‘ Mother, this untimely tete a tete was unpremeditated on 
Jasper’s part," said Abel, thinking only of the doubtful posi- 
tion in which his cousin was placed. ‘ ‘ I secreted myself. 
She did not know of my presence until I — ’ ’ 


74 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


* * A probable story, indeed, ’ ’ said his mother, scornfully 
interrupting him. 

“ Jasper, defend yourself ’ said Abel, indignantly. 

‘ ‘ It is not worth while, since she does not believe her ow?i 
son. I will explain all to my uncle when he returns. If he 
understands me I do not care. ’ ’ 

\* H shall" said Abel, too much excited to trust himself 
to say more. 

“ Close that instrument, lock it, and hand me the key,” 
said Mrs. Grantland to Jasper with an air of command. 

** No, that is my business ; and as for the key, I will keep it. 
I play a little myself, having picked up the accomplishment 
at college. You see stolen pleasures are sweetest, mother.^’ 
Mrs. Grantland turned whiter than the gown she wore, 
but she knew it was not worth her while to say anything, for 
her son was in the same humor as herself. Jasper, however, 
should not escape without severe reprimand. 

“ Thee intends to throw thyself on thy uncle’s generosity, 
does thee ? We shall see whether thee will succeed. Sup- 
pose he should turn thee from his door — what then ?’ ’ 

“ I should work !” 

“ And who does thee think would have thee ?’* 

“ Mother, mother, how cruel ! Jasper, she does not 
mean it.” But Jasper was gone, and Mrs. Grantland fol- 
lowed her out, while Sophy Gregg went back to her own 
room mentally calling herself an idiot for having roused up 
her mistress with the information that Jasper was missing — 
perhaps drowned. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


75 


CHAPTER XI. 

Abel, true to his word, left the next morning to attend to 
some business for his father in a distant city. Jasper did not 
have an opportunity of vindicating herself in her aunt’s eyes, 
for Mrs. Grantland also took her departure for the country on 
the same day. So Ephraim Grantland being absent likewise, 
Jasper and Sophy were left in quiet possession of the house. 

The silence was oppressive, and Jasper was really glad 
when Sophy came in for a moment’s chat. 

“ What would you give for a letter ?” said Sophy, draw- 
ing something from her bosom. 

“ A letter ! from whom ?” 

“ From hun y of course.” 

* ‘ Do you mean Abel ?’ ’ 

” La sakes, no ! I mean the * forriner’ — the one that 
makes the music. He came here this morning while you 
were away, and I told him I’d take charge of this, bein’ as 
how he had been and been here, and always found you out.” 

“ Sophy, is it possible that you have grown as suspi- 
cious as my aunt ! Give me the letter ; it is only about a 
matter of business.” 

Sophy gave up her prize, and Jasper tore open the enve- 
lope and read the contents with avidity. 

” I will tell you all about it one of these days, good So- 
phy, only be patient.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST , . 


7 6 

“ Well, well, I guess I can wait ; but you needn’t have 
got so ‘ tetchious , ’ if I did think you had a sweetheart. Most 
folks has at your age. ’ ’ 

“Have I been cross? Well, perhaps when I have a 
sweetheart my temper will improve — who knows ?’’ said Jas- 
per, laughing merrily. 

“ Ah, don’t you believe it. Men are an aggravatin’ set. 
But every woman wants to try her luck. Go on, catch ’em, 
catch ’em ; all I know is, they won’t catch me, that’s cer- 
tain,’’ and Sophy went downstairs grumbling and talking to 
herself as usual. 

Jasper watched eagerly for her uncle’s return. She was 
particularly anxious to be the first to meet him, and ran to 
the hall at every touch of the door-bell. At last he came, 
and as good fortune would have it, ’twas at a time when 
Hester was still from home. 

The old man was quite overcome by the cordial greeting 
of his niece, and evidently did not know what to make of it 
for a minute or two. 

She rushed into his arms, and then almost dragging him 
into the library, said, “ Uncle, I am going away. Will you 
give me your consent ?’’ 

“ Child, thee tells me what thee is going to do, and then 
thee asks me if thee may do it, ’ ’ said Ephraim, as he sat 
down, took off his hat, and wiped the perspiration from his 
forehead. 

“ I must — I must,” and Jasper threw herself upon the 
floor and leaned her head upon her uncle’s knee. 

“ Go where ?” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


77 


“To the South to teach. Read this,” and she thrust 
the letter into his hand which Sophy had brought her a few 
days before. 

“Who secured thee the place?” asked Ephraim, having 
read the letter and handed it back to her. 

“ Professor Reinberg and Dr. Beckwith. They have 
written to several persons for me.” 

‘ ‘ And thee wants to teach ?’ * 

'“Yes, uncle.” 

“ Does thee know enough ?” 

“ Oh, I know a great deal, ’’said Jasper, smiling through 
her tears. 

“ Well, dear, a little conceit is necessary to success in the 
world, I believe ; but it won’t do much without a consider- 
able foundation : 

4 ‘ What can thee teach ?’ ’ 

“ Music for one thing.” 

“ Music !” 

Here Jasper, as rapidly as she could, gave an account of 
the manner in which she had acquired her knowledge of the 
science, and wound up by saying, “ Will you forgive me, 
uncle ?’ ’ 

“ Forgive thee ! I should like to hear thee play.” 

“ But I can not. Abel is gone with the key of the piano 
in his pocket. Uncle, I have done what is a dreadful thing 
in my aunt’s eyes. I could not sleep, and I opened the 
piano and played. It was two o’clock at night. I thought 
no one could hear me. I did this several times, but the last 
night it seems Sophy missed me from my room and told my 


78 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


aunt. Now, the worst of all this is, that last night Abel 
was with me, but I had only discovered his presence a few 
moments before they came in search of me. My aunt will 
not believe it. Uncle, what shall I do to convince you ?” 

4 4 Give me thy word, dear. ’ ’ 

44 You have my word, solemnly and assuredly, and would 
that my mother’s spirit, which I believe is ever at my side, 
could bear witness to the truth of what I say. Unci#, you 
will let me go ?’ ’ 

44 Thee is young, my darling,” said Ephraim Grantland, 
smiling benevolently on his niece. 

44 No, uncle, I am old — old beyond my time. I was young 
when I was nine years of age. I have never been young 
since. I shall die if I do not go away. ’ * 

44 I thought thee had quelled that proud will,” said 
Ephraim, stroking his niece’s hair fondly. 

44 Call it what you choose,” said Jasper, springing to her 
feet and looking almost wild with excitement. 4 4 I am no 
longer a child. I am going. Only give me your blessing ; I 
cannot do without that. ’ ’ 

44 If thee will go, then thee must, and if thee will be hap- 
pier, I bid thee God speed, but I had thought thee would 
close my old eyes.” 

44 Oh! uncle,” said Jasper, breaking down at last, and 
throwing herself upon her uncle’s bosom, 44 when those eyes 
are closed, then my light on earth has gone out indeed. 
Only bless me and forgive me for all my wayward ways.” 

The old man pressed her to his heart, and after a mo- 
ment’s silence said, in a hoarse voice, 44 God bless thee and 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


79 


keep thee all the days of thy life, my darling. I do not let 
thee go willingly, for thee is young to try the world alone, 
but I cannot coerce thy impetuous nature, and if thee will 
be happier to make thine own living, go. Once again, God 
bless thee, my child !” 


CHAPTER XII. 

The letter which Sophy had imagined was the precious 
missive of some sweetheart proved to be the offer of a 
situation as governess in the family of Mr. Beresford of 
Virginia. 

As Professor Reinberg had recommended Jasper for the 
position as a proficient in music, he was made the medium 
of communication between Mr. Beresford and herself. 
Hence the Professor’s frequent visits and strenuous en- 
deavors to see her alone. 

Jasper wrote an acceptance of the situation previous to 
her uncle’s return, and trusted to his mild and gentle nature 
for sanction. He yielded the point with reluctance. He could 
not for his life see why a girl of her age should wish to leave 
a comfortable home and run the risk of being buffeted about 
by heartless and selfish employers. Her experience would be 
dearly bought, but let her try it. “A wilful woman maun 
have her way, ” and after all, if she will be happier — well, well, 
it might be all for the best. So he placed an ample sum in 
her hand for travelling expenses, and as Mr. Beresford had 


8o 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


urged that she would come at once, she was admonished by 
her uncle to lose no time in making the necessary prepara- 
tions for her journey. 

In three days all was in readiness. Jasper was not sorry 
that her aunt was still in the country. But Abel — she 
would have liked to have told him good-bye. After all, it 
made no difference — to him , at any rate. 

The necessity of prompt and decided action soon put to 
flight all such cogitations, and as Jasper went on with her 
packing, her heart grew lighter as her trunk became 
heavier. Sophy was greatly shocked at such a mode of pro- 
ceeding. “ What would Mrs. Grantland say when she 
came home?” Sophy hoped at any rate Jasper wouldn’t 
get married down South. She wouldn’t, she knew. It was 
well enough to have a sweetheart once in a while, but marry- 
ing was a different thing. There wasn’t the man on top of 
the earth she’d marry — not she. 

Jasper allowed her to continue her homilies, but went on 
with her arrangements all the same until finally the day of 
departure arrived. 

Ephraim Grantland was up betimes, and ready to go with 
his niece to the train. The hasty morning’s meal was 
eaten, Sophy stood silently by, shedding a few tears, and 
Jasper was gone ! Gone from a lonely house and a dreary 
life to a life perhaps of thankless toil among strangers. 
Nothing to regret in the past, nothing to look forward to in 
the future, yet any change is sad, and Jasper realized this 
as the train moved off and she sat apart from the crowd and 
looked from the window of the coach. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


8l 


A little less than nine years previous she had disembarked 
at the same depot which she had just left. Would she ever 
return ? Who would care if she did not ? Her uncle, per- 
haps, and some few others. She settled herself in a corner 
of the seat and strove to banish such gloomy thoughts by 
watching the faces of the passengers. Two or three children 
were fretting for water, others for oranges, while most of 
them alternately stood up and sat down, ate cold chicken or 
apple pie, to the great torment of their parents and the intense 
satisfaction of the flies, which latter seemed to have invested 
in Spaulding’s glue, so persistently did they stick to their 
victims. 

Directly in front of Jasper a female slept peacefully 
through the whole of the noise, sublimely indifferent to 
the fact that her infant of nine months’ old yelled vocifer- 
ously, pounding her in the face with one hand, and pulling 
her hair with the other. 

This was more than Jasper could stand, so, decoying the 
child from its mother’s arms to her own, the little one soon 
slept peacefully upon a stranger’s bosom, much to the sur- 
prise of the parent, who roused up presently and commenced 
looking for her babe under the seat. 

After two days and a night of similar experience, Jasper 
found herself approaching the place of her destination. 
Now the coach windows were open on all sides, for, far away 
in the distance loomed up the Alleghany and Blue Ridge 
Mountains — hardly distinguishable from clouds in the morn- 
ing’s haze. 

“ Ashwood Depot,” called out the conductor, slamming 


82 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


the door behind him as he entered the car. “Passengers 
for Ashwood Depot. Ten minutes for refreshments." (His 
eye fell upon Jasper.) 

There are few places in the world where men are so 
deferential to women as in Virginia. This springs not so 
much from any training or polish in schools of etiquette as 
it does from the noble impulse of the manly heart. 

The conductor’s eye fell upon Jasper. He saw that she 
was alone, and quietly taking her satchel from her hand, he 
assisted her from the train, saw to her trunks, and bade her 
feel no uneasiness, for a suitable conveyance would soon be 
in readiness for the remainder of her journey. One touch 
of the hat and he was back to his post, and Jasper stood 
hesitating upon the platform. 

All around her were seated men, smoking or chewing, 
lazily discussing the politics of the day, the price of tobacco, 
or the decline in wheat. At this rural station the world 
seemd to be standing still, no one was in a hurry, and few 
seemed to have anything to do. Bags of somebody’s “ Fine 
Fertilizer’’ were piled up as high as the ceiling, “Fertil- 
izers for sale’’ being printed everywhere. 

Idle negroes slept soundly on this commodity, utterly in- 
different to the fearful odor it emitted. 

As Jasper took in this situation of affairs, she was accost- 
ed by a genuine son of Africa who seemed desirous as far as 
possible to imitate the native chief from whom he was de- 
scended by discarding all clothing not positively necessary. 
He rejoiced in a pair of trousers and a shirt. The texture 
of this same shirt corresponded precisely with that of the 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


S3 

material out of which the bags containing the fertilizer were 
made, and Jasper’s suspicions concerning the origin of the 
garment were confirmed when the wearer turned his back, 
for printed thereon in huge black letters, were the words 

M inipulated Guano. ’ ’ In truth, the shirt was nothing but a 
reconstructed guano-bag, and as the owner could not read, 
he was perfectly unconscious of the manner in which he had 
labeled himself, and went about his business as happy as a 
king. 

“ Is you gwine off on de Fairy Belle, Mistis ?” asked the 
man of Jasper. 

“ I don’t know. I wish to go on to Chatsworth. Does 
the Fairly Belle run between Ashwood and Chatsworth ?” 

“Oh* well, you’se all right. Fairy Belle starts in ten 
minutes. She’ll come up to time ; don’t be orneasy. I 
takes care of de trunks till dey is put on de Fairy Belle. 
You can set in de lady’s room over dere ; stage agent gone 
to breakfast ; be back soon.” 

Jasper took advantage of the suggestion, and retired to the 
waiting-room. The odor of the guano-bags was intolerable. 
“ But, never mind,” thought she, “ the Fairy Belle is com- 
ing !” The name was suggestive of tinkling waters and 
cool and shady glens. How delightful it would be to be 
“ coaching” through romantic scenery in the mountains of 
Virginia ! All recollection of fatigue and inconvenience 
vanished at the thought, only the ten minutes seemed 
twenty, so impatient was the traveller to be on her way to 
Chatsworth. 

Several times she went to the window, still no sign of a 


8 4 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


conveyance. At last, just as her patience had been tried to 
the utmost, there was a rumbling of wheels, a cracking of 
whips, and a “ Hip, hip, hurrah ! Here she comes !” and 
Jasper saw her trunk shouldered by the stalwart African, 
who hurried along the platform with it. 

“But where is the Fairy Belle?” asked Jasper as she 
noticed the man with some concern. 

“ Why, ain’t dis her, Mistis ?” he said, pointing to a di- 
lapidated vehicle drawn by two splendid horses. 

“ Are you sure ?” 

“ Why yes’m ; I reckon I ought to know her mighty well 
by dis time ; she’s been on de road forty years.” 

“ And this is the Fairy Belle !” 

“ Yes’m, you may ask any of ’em if ’tain’t. ” 

Jasper’s countenance fell. The Fairy Belle was in rags, 
the tattered and faded curtains dangled and flapped in the 
wind, while the body of the vehicle leaned perceptibly back, 
as if on the eve of parting company with the running gear 
in front. 

“All aboard, all aboard!” cried the driver, and Jasper 
was hurried into the stage-coach by the depot agent, who 
came up with his toothpick in his mouth. 

If the passenger was surprised at the outward condition of 
the “ Fairy,” she was still more discomfited by the internal 
arrangements, for within all seemed contrived for the ex- 
press torture of the unfortunate traveller. 

The stuffing of the morocco lining was so inclined as to 
push forward the head, and thus preclude the possibility of 
an erect position, while the seats were swung so high that 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


85 


none but a female Goliath could touch the floor, even with 
the tips of her toes. In giving scope to his inventive genius, 
the architect of the Fairy Belle evidently had Procrustes in 
his mind, that famous man of Attica, who laid travellers on 
a bed, and if their length exceeded that of the bed, he cut it 
off ; but if they were shorter, he had them stretched to make 
their length equal to it. 

But the whip cracked again, and all were off, bounding 
and bouncing and rattling along, while the driver of the 
Fairy Belle sang, 

41 O ! carry me back to old Virginia, 

To old Virginia shore.” 

“Going to stop at Chatsworth ?” asked a shrill voice, 
which proceeded from the only passenger besides Jasper. 

“No, I — g — o far — ther,” said Jasper.” (The bouncing 
motion did not favor conversation, and she relapsed into si- 
lence.) 

The quiet that now reigned in the Fairy Belle seemed to 
disturb the driver, who was desirous of promoting a more 
sociable state of things. He therefore turned his head over 
his shoulder, and looking at Jasper called out, “ Mr. Jones 
is dead.” 

To this Jasper made no reply, as she was not acquainted 
with Mr. Jones, and did not know he had ever lived, much 
less died. 

After a moment or two another effort was made on the 
driver’s part. “ Mr. Jeem’s barn is burnt down.” 

Still no response from Jasper. 


86 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“ I reckon you ain’t acquainted with this part of the coun- 
try ?’ ’ said the other female passenger. 

“ No, I have never been in this part of Virginia,” said 
Jasper. 

The driver, seeing that he had gotten things on a more so- 
ciable footing, was satisfied ; he cracked his whip and re- 
sumed the tune of 

41 Oh ! carry me back to old Virginia,” 

while the coach bounced so high sometimes as almost to 
throw him from the box. 

Thus rattling and bounding, the Fairy Belle went on for 
about twelve miles, until, to Jasper’s intense joy, she dis- 
cerned a church spire, and gradually caught sight of a lovely 
village, encircled by far-off blue mountains. 

“Not going to stop at Chatsworth ?” asked the fellow 
passenger. 

“ No,” replied Jasper, “I am going some miles farther.” 

“ Going to Mr. Mandeville’s ?” 

** No,” said Jasper, almost out of patience. 

“ Nor to Mr. Rainsford’s ?” 

4t No ! I am going to Mr. Beresford’s.” 

“To Sherwood ? Ah, indeed! well, here we are,” said 
the woman as the stage stopped before a small fancy shop. 
I get out here. Good-evening.” 

“ I suppose,” said she, turning back, “ you wrote them 
you were coming ; they generally send the carriage for visit- 
ors, you know, my dear. The stage don’t go any farther.” 

But Jasper had not written the exact day she would be in 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


87 


Chatsworth, for she didn’t know, and she now began for the 
first time to realize the utter loneliness of her situation, as 
the night was coming on and she saw her fellow-passenger 
disappear through the glass door of the little shop. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Mr. Beresford lived upon a baronial estate, and boasted 
that no railroad ran within several miles of his habitation. 
There are many such homes in Virginia, and it is astonish- 
ing how much their owners are devoted to them. The pro- 
prietor of “ Sherwood” would not have pulled down or al- 
tered his ancient dwelling for any consideration. Had not 
his father, grandfather, and great grandfather been born and 
raised there ? What if other people were adding to or re- 
modelling their homesteads ! What did he care for hot and 
cold water innovations ! He’d much rather have his water 
brought to his house in pails than in pipes. Didn’t he 
have a whole regiment of little bare-foot darkies with noth- 
ing on earth to do except go to the spring ? and what on 
earth was that fine growth of wool on top of their heads in- 
tended for if not to set a pail upon ? Talk to him about 
internal improvements — fudge and nonsense ! he didn’t be- 
lieve in them ! And what if the bedsteads at Sherwood 
were so high that one had to mount a small flight of steps to 
get between the sheets ! Had not old Col. Beresford, a 


88 


IN DEAD EARNEST . 


hero of the Revolutionary war, died on that same kind of 
bedstead ? Had not most of the ponderous mahogany furni- 
ture been handed down to Mr. Beresford through several 
generations ? He wanted none of your fashionable “ gim - 
cracks .” Give him a good substantial chair intended to 
hold a man and not a skeleton ; a chair should be large 
enough for two persons if it was intended for one. 

So Mr. Beresford enjoyed the antiquity of Sherwood, not- 
withstanding the housemaid had to climb a ladder to dust 
the mantel-piece, and the brass and-irons were fully as tall 
as the fire-place. 

“ Sherwood” was worthy of its name. While there was 
no lack of arable land and an immense stretch of “ low- 
grounds,” a noble forest encircled the estate and made up 
a good portion of the many thousand acres Mr. Beresford 
called his own. 

Sherwood looked lovely in the morning’s sun, but there 
were several other places in the country just as inviting. 
There was “ Oakwood,” Mr. Mandeville’s place, and there 
was “ Maplewood,” Mr. Rainsford’s plantation ; indeed, it 
was a pleasant neighborhood in the summer months, when 
each of these families entertained their friends from the 
cities. 

Sherwood was like a miniature colony, for among the 
two or three hundred slaves whom Mr. Beresford formerly 
owned were carpenters, blacksmiths, coopers, weavers, 
shoemakers, field laborers, etc. 

It is true Mr. Beresford, with such a force, made immense 
crops of corn before the war, but his two hundred negroes 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


89 

ate it up, and the worst of all was, many of the two hundred 
only had to be taken care of, being superannuated and past 
work, and others of the two hundred being children, had to 
be fed and clothed, with the remote possibility that they 
might some day be old enough to work, but with the much 
greater probability that they would die in the cradle, for 
despite Mr. Beresford’ s sanitary measures, the mothers of 
these nursing infants would slyly feed them on whatever they 
ate themselves ; so it turned out many a little negro child 
when teething fell a victim to an overdose of hot coffee, 
cabbage, soup, or cucumbers. Before the war, Mr. Beres- 
ford slaughtered hundreds of hogs yearly, besides many 
beeves, but they went in the same way as did the corn. 
Then there was the tobacco crop. The yield from those 
broad acres was fabulous, but out of the profits came the 
taxes and doctors’ bills and a thousand and one expenses 
consequent upon the support of so large a number of de- 
pendents. 

True, Mrs. Beresford had the satisfaction of saying to 
her servant, “ Do this,” and he did it. If one cook was 
ill, she could order another (as there were five belonging to 
her), but at the same time she had a perfect knowledge of the 
fact that while that one cook prepared the breakfast, there 
were four others at home in their cottages doing nothing un- 
less it were eating their heads off, making it just four times 
as expensive to own a cook as to hire one. 

As Mr. Beresford was situated, just so it was with Mr. 
Mandeville, and Mr. Rainsford, and hundreds of others in 
the South. 


90 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


And yet Mr. Beresford was no more willing to part with 
the “institution” than he was with his tall bedstead, and 
had about as much reason for holding on to one as he had 
for obstinately climbing into the other. 

We have said Sherwood was lovely. It was more ; it was 
charming l In these days of steam and electricity, descrip- 
tion must borrow style from the concise message of the tele- 
graph operator, or else the writer will pall upon the taste of 
the ever-hurring, fast-living, fast-thinking reader of to-day, 
and the novel will be thrown aside in disgust. 

Suffice it then to say, Sherwood was all that a country place 
should be, with its noble oaks and maples and cedars, its 
velvet turf, its picturesque herds of sheep and cattle ; and a 
more enchanting spot could scarcely be seen on the face of 
the earth than the traveller beheld on that crisp September 
morning when the village coach stopped before the stately 
old mansion. 

“ Some one in the sitting-room, sir,” said “ Dandy,” the 
dining-room servant to his master as he was about to mount 
his horse for his daily ride over the plantation. 

“ Lady or gentleman, Dandy?” asked Mr. Beresford. 

“ Lady, sir.” 

“Lady ! how did she come ?” 

4 ‘ In a hack, sir. ’ ’ 

“ Tell your mistress. The lady doesn’t wish to see me, 
of course.” 

** Yes, she do, sir. She asked for you expressively." 

With this information Mr. Beresford returned to the 
hall, and throwing down his gloves, entered the room 


IN DEAD EARNEST. gj 

where sat the stranger, who rose from her seat as he ap- 
proached. 

The lady wore a neat travelling dress of some soft gray 
material, and Mr. Beresford knew at a glance that she had 
come some distance. 

4 4 Whom have I the honor of addressing ?’ ’ said the gen- 
tleman of the house, extending his hand at the same time. 

44 Miss St. John,” said Jasper, rather disagreeably im- 
pressed with the idea that he had never heard of her before. 

4 4 Ah, yes ; I ask pardon humbly. I remember now ; you 
are the young lady of whom my friend Mandeville spoke to 
me. We thought we should have heard at what time you 
expected to arrive in Chatsworth. Did you come this morn- 
ing ?” 

44 Only from Chatsworth. I arrived at that point last 
evening, and for want of further conveyance stopped for the 
night at the village tavern. ’ * 

44 Indeed ! I am sorry for the delay. I presume your 
trunks are at the door ?’ * 

Jasper replied in the affirmative, and Dandy was sum- 
moned at once to see to them. 

When Dandy, requiring assistance, went in search of vari- 
ous little negroes over whom he played the uncompromising 
autocrat, Mr. Beresford disappeared from the room and 
soon came in with his wife. She was a delicate, soft-voiced 
woman, and evidently a great invalid. In a kind and lan- 
guid manner she expressed concern that Jasper should have 
been put to the inconvenience of remaining in Chatsworth 
all night. She was sorry the children were out, but she was 


9 2 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


not well, and * 4 Mammy’ ’ had taken them off somewhere to 
keep them quiet, but 4 4 I will show you your room, Miss St. 
John; you must need rest after so long a journey,” and 
with this Mrs. B. led the way upstairs through a wide hall, 
the floor of which was of a dark rich color and oiled and 
polished to the last extreme. 

44 This is your chamber. Opposite you is that of a young 
friend of mine — quite an adopted sister. I am sorry that 
she also is away. She will return before long, however, ’ * 
and with a few more courteous words and a hope that 
Miss St. John would have a good rest, the mistress of Sher- 
wood left and was seen no more until dinner-time. There 
was no need of asking where the children were when that 
hour arrived. 44 Mammy” had taken them visiting to some 
of the negro cabins. They had become hungry all of a 
sudden, and here they came, talking and jabbering, cracking 
whips, and blowing horns, whistles, and what not, making 
the old house resound again to their noise. First came 
4 ‘ Pink, ’ ’ a girl of nine, next ‘ 4 Rob, ’ ’ a bare-foot six-year- 
old boy, with curls all over his head, then 44 Tip” and 
44 Tiny” (the twins), and lastly 44 Bessie,” the baby. 

Two servants accompanied this regiment of 44 infantry.” 
One of these attendants was a stately, dignified black woman, 
the famous 44 Mammy,” peculiar to almost every Virginia 
home ; the other servant was 4 4 Polly, ’ ’ a negro girl about 
twelve years of age. 

Polly’s business was to follow in the rear of her young 
masters and mistresses, pick them up when they stumped 
their toes, wipe their noses, brush their clothes, tell them 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


93 


not to cry, and set them on their legs again. She added 
sundry other duties to her office, such as keeping them away 
from hornet’s nests, coaxing them not to eat green apples, 
glass, china, grasshoppers, etc. Indeed, Polly was quite an 
institution, and “ Mammy” said she herself “ would be run 
to death if it wasn’t for Polly.” 

As the children passed in review before Jasper, Mr. Beres- 
ford called out one after another by name, evidently proud 
of his little family, and feeling that the governess of such a 
parcel of children ought to be as happy as the day was long. 
They were not allowed to go to the table, however ; they 
were too noisy. Mrs. Beresford’s head was aching, and, 
besides, there was a gentleman to dinner, so Tip and Tiny, 
as well as the others, were provided with ample slices of bread 
and butter and told to wait. 

And now as Jasper stood behind her chair she took in 
at a glance the bountiful table, the old-fashioned silver and 
cut-glass, the negro man whose business it was to keep the 
flies off with an immense bunch of peacock’s feathers, while 
the family enjoyed the chicken pie, corn-pudding, roast mut- 
ton, etc. Yes, Sherwood was celebrated for its good living, 
and, upon the whole, black and white had a good time there 
and took life easy. 

But Jasper’s thoughts were withdrawn from the table upon 
the entrance of two persons whom she had not seen. before. 
One of these was introduced as Miss Frothingham, the other 
as Mr. Rainsford. They were now all seated, and the con- 
versation became general as well as genial. 

To say that Avis Frothingham was beautiful would not 


94 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


describe her, and yet she was considered the embodiment 
of all loveliness. According to the rules of classic style, 
her features were defective, but the witchery of her expres- 
sion, added to the large, lazy-looking, dark eyes, the profu- 
sion of golden blonde hair, that vine-like and with a fasci- 
nating abandon wreathed her forehead — all these, added to 
an almost childlike grace, were far more winsome than regu- 
lar Grecian beauty. 

“ Did your ride fatigue you, Avis?” asked Mrs. Beresford 
in course of their discussion of the morning’s amusement. 

“ No, darling — that is — not very much. Zephyr was a lit- 
tle restive on account of the flies, but Mr. Rainsford joined 
me and relieved my mind of the fear that there would be no 
one to tell if I should be run away with. ’ ’ 

Mr. Rainsford said nothing in reply to this delicate little 
inuendo that his company had been acceptable, and Avis, 
with infinite tact, launched into another subject. 

Sidney Rainsford was a brilliant man when he was in the 
vein, and if he was silent it was not because he was at a loss 
for anything to say. His birth, bearing, and ability would 
have procured him an entrance into any circle, but he rarely 
availed himself of that fact. Added to a certain high-born 
Je ne sais quoi , his face was a study, and Jasper thought 
the tall, dark Virginian looked down rather patronizingly on 
Avis Frothingham, as with all her conversational powers 
she endeavored to awaken his interest and retain his atten- 
tions. 

But the dinner was nearly finished, and the children were 
getting impatient, as was evinced by the fact that they were 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 95 

far from quiet, and would peep in at the door in spite of 
Polly’s efforts to prevent. 

And now came on the dessert, and Dandy, with all the 
flourish of an expert in such matters, placed the far-famed 
Sherwood cheese-cakes before his mistress. All had gone 
on well until that moment. Mrs. Beresford was congratu- 
lating herself that the children had behaved so sweetly ; but 
alas ! this last move was the last feather upon the camel’s 
back ; it was more than human flesh in the shape of “ Tip” 
and “ Tiny” could endure ; so by a rapid and dexterous flank 
movement they advanced upon their mother, each quietly 
appropriated a good-sized pie, and then disappeared as fast 
as feet could carry them. 

” Tip, darling — Tiny, my dear !” said Mrs. Beresford 
in a deprecating tone — ” Mr. Rainsford, Miss St. John, do 
excuse them, Mr. Beresford does spoil them so.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Although Jasper had not yet undertaken all of her duties 
as governess, she had become quite well acquainted with 
the children in the course of a few days. She found Pink 
to be of a bright, happy, affectionate nature, loving music 
and everybody that made it ; consequently there sprung up 
at once a bond of sympathy, a kind of free-masonry, between 
herself and Pink. We have already had an insight into the 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


96 

character of Tip as well as Tiny ; as in the case of the 
cheese-cakes, just so in all other emergencies did they prove 
themselves to be indefatigably enterprising and mischievous. 
“ Rob the Rover,’' as he was nick-named, was of an ex- 
ceedingly migratory disposition. Upon getting angry with 
Mammy on one occasion, he had started to run off to South 
Carolina, but, changing his mind, climbed to the top of a 
tall oak tree, from which perch he could not be induced to 
descend until the almost frantic Mammy promised to bring 
him a candy elephant as large as himself the first time she 
went to town. Since the advent of the last travelling circus 
to the neighboring village, Rob had stood so incessantly 
upon his head that his hair was filled with “ trash,” and his 
mother, as well as his nurse, threatened that he should be 
shorn of his golden ringlets if he didn't reverse his position. 

Bessie, the baby, had not developed any peculiarities be- 
yond saying ‘ ‘ blackberry jam , ’ ’ which was considered a 
remarkably hard word for a child of her age, and when, in 
the course of a few months, she acquired sufficient com- 
mand of language to pronounce the words “ buckwheat 
cake , ’ ’ Mammy thought her reputation as a prodigy fully 
established. Jasper was busy in her own room one day, 
dusting and arranging her wardrobe, when some one tapped 
at the half open door, and said, in a hesitating whisper, 

‘ 4 May I come in ?’ ’ 

The assent being given, in walked Mammy in her whitest 
apron and gaudiest handkerchief, the latter being wound 
about her head somewhat after the fashion of a turban and 
tied in a knot with two ends low at the nape of her neck. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


97 


‘ ‘ Well, here I am at last, ’ ’ exclaimed she. * ‘ The baby has 
just * drapped ’ off to sleep, and I thought I would come in 
and see you for a few minutes. Well, honey, how you do ? 
I’se been trying to get to see you ever since you came. 
Bless your heart, how you do ?” 

“I am quite well, I thank you,” said Jasper, extending 
her hand, but not a little puzzled as she did so. 

“ La, honey, you don’t know me,” said Mammy. 

Jasper was forced to acknowledge that she had but a 
slight acquaintance with her. 

” Well, I knows you ; I aways knows ‘ royal folks' when I 
sees ’em,” said Mammy, straightening herself with an air 
of dignity. 

Few persons except those who have been raised in the 
South are aware of the fact that the language made use of 
by the servants of the household is very different from that 
of the laboring hands. 

As a race, negroes are exceedingly imitative and fond of 
display, and when they were slaves the height of ambition 
among the ladies’ maids and “ mammies” of every old home- 
stead was to imitate the manners, carriage, and conversation 
of the mistresses whom they served. Often the attempt was 
a failure, or rather a burlesque, for high-sounding words 
were frequently used with an utter disregard to their mean- 
ing, or with a bearing directly the opposite of their import ; 
but the effort nearly always resulted in a certain sort of 
polish, and even elegance in some instances, which placed 
those who attained it immeasurably above the lower class of 
white people. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


98 

“Yes, indeed," continued Mammy, “ I always knows 
* royal ’ folks when I sees ’em. Why, child, I knowed your 
father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before you ; you 
are the very ‘ spit ' of your father. And you never knowed 
Mammy ! My name is ‘ Kizzy’ — Aunt Kizzy ; the children 
calls me ‘ Mammy,’ you know, because I’se raised ’em — yes, 
bodilaceous raised ’em since they were no bigger than a coffee- 
pot. And you don’t know Mammy — well, well, well ! Why, 
child, your folks were grand people. I remember when they 
owned houses and lands and horses and dogs and ‘ niggers ’ 
— why, I remember when their plantations were just illumi- 
nated with ‘ niggers.’ ” 

“ Do you ?’’ asked Jasper, becoming suddenly very much 
interested. 

“ That I do ! and I’m the only one is living as remem- 
bers it. 

“Yes, I remembers the St. Johns and the Worthingtons, 
and when old Governor Worthington used to come up to 
the Virginia springs from way down in South Kalina, impu- 
tation on top of imputation used to come for him. Every- 
body wanted him to dine ; yes, I remembers it, and I remem- 
bers, too, the great lawsuit about Governor Worthington’s 
property, and how after his death it wasn’t given to the one 
that it ought to belong to ; but you know all about that, 
don’t you ?’’ 

Jasper said that she did not. 

“Don’t know about the lawsuit? Why, mussy on me, 
where have you been, child ?’ ’ 

“ I’ve lived with Quakers since I was very young,’’ re- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


99 

plied Jasper. “You know they do not believe in going 
ether to law or to war. ’ ’ 

“You don’t say so ! Well, ’bout Governor Worthing- 
ton’s property, it was this way — but, honey, I must sit down. 
“ Do,’’ said Jasper, placing a chair for Aunt Kizzy. 

“ As I was saying, this was the way of it, ’ ’ and Mammy 
resumed the thread of the story : 

“ Way back yonder, Gov. Worthington’s folks were F. 
F. V. ’s — that is, ‘ first families of Virginia.’ They’d always 
been used to their own niggers, and my mother was one of 
’em, and has often told me all about it. Well, one branch 
of the family went to South Kalina, and there was born 
the Gov. Worthington I am talking of. Presently another 
Worthington was born, and they called him Roscoe. He was 
the brother of the Governor, Roscoe was ; and when he 
grew to be. a man, he bought him a plantation in Virginia 
and moved back there. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ What was the name of the Governor ?’ ’ 

“ The Governor was named Wallace. Wallace and Ros- 
coe were the two brothers. Well, in course of time Gover- 
nor Wallace Worthington marries Mrs. Marchmont’s only 
daughter, by whom he had one only son, and that son was 
called Marchmont Worthington. About the same time Ros- 
coe, the one in Virginia, gets married. Let me see, who did 
he marry ? La, child, I forget ; but never mind, anyhow, 
he too, had one child and that was a daughter. Hush, 
wasn’t that the baby ?” said Mammy, listening for a moment. 
“ No, ’twas Tip blowin’ of his whistle. Where was I in my 
story ?” 


IOO 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“ You were telling of the two Worthington brothers and 
their two children. ’ ’ 

“ So I was. Well, Mammy’s gettin’ old, child ; she for- 
gets more than she knows : 

“Well, Mr. Wallace Worthington’s wife died after a 
while, and he never married again, and never had but that 
one son, Marchmont. Well, I’m cornin’ to the sad part 
of the story. You know Governor Wallace Worthington 
used to come to Virginia every summer to see his brother 
Roscoe. They was all that was left of their family, and 
was monsous, monsous fond of one another. Now Wal- 
lace had spent the summer in Virginia, he and his young son 
March, as they called him, and they started back to South 
Kalina in the fall, and stopped a while in Richmond to see 
a grand play that was to come off at the theatre. Folks 
from away off yonder went to it, for it was goin’ to be 
somethin’ uncommon, and there was no end of talk about 
it. Well, that night the theatre took fire — and, child, it 
makes my hair stand on end to think of it ; there was a sight 
of people, grandees and all, burnt alive or smothered to 
death. You see, the doors all opened inside, and the crowd 
rushed agin ’em, and the only way to get out was through 
the windows, and they couldn’t be opened fast enough, and 
the black smoke from the pine wood and paintin’ s was sti- 
flin’, and people were scramblin’ and climbin’ over the dead 
and dyin’, and many of them were their best friends. Oh ! 
it was awful ! 

“ Well, some got out, to be sure, and among ’em was seen 
(some folks said) the young boy ‘ ‘ March , ’ ’ others said it was 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


IOI 


some one very much like him. Anyhow the next day March 
was not to be seen, and folks said he went back in the the- 
atre and couldn’t get out. But that wasn’t much like a boy 
twelve years old I say. I dunno how it was, but, anyhow, 
that was the last seen or heard of the South Kalina Wor- 
thingtons. Their bones was buried under the big monu- 
ment before the Monumental Church at Richmond, and you 
can see the name of father and son right there. 

“ And then the question was, who did Gov. Worthing- 
ton’s property belong to ? You see he had no kin when 
livin’ but his one son and one brother, but as soon as he was 
dead the heirs started up on all sides till the lawyers said 
their never was so much mitigation in the world before. At 
first it was thought father and son must have suffocated at 
the same time, but after a while some folks swore they saw 
the boy when everybody inside, where the father was, must 
have been dead. So as the boy was seen last , the property 
went to him, then through him back to his grandma (his 
mother bein’ dead). Now his grandma was his mother’s 
mother, not his father’s, and when the grandmother died 
she left it to her sister, Mrs. Marchmont, and that sister was 
no kin to Gov. Worthington, and didn’t know him from a 
side of sole-leather, for she always lived away over yonder in 
Europe somewhere. Now it did seem strange for it not to 
go to Gov. Worthington’s own brother, when he was a 
livin’ too, but folks said it was accordin’ to the law of South 
Kalina, and so it went. Now one of the heirs ain’t so very 
far off from here, and just guess Avho it is ?” 

“ Mr. Rainsford ?” asked Jasper. 


102 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“One of ’em I know,” continued Mammy, “and the 
strangest part ” 

“Mammy, Mammy,” shrieked Tiny. “Mammy, Rob 
went and shut — my nose up — in the bureau-drawer,” yelled 
Tiny, gasping between every two or three words. 

“ He shut — my — nose up in the bureau-drawer — an — an,” 
and Tiny ran shrieking into Jasper’s room. 

“La, child, ain’t here your nose right on your face?” 
said Mammy, soothingly. 

“ He did — he shut my — nose up in — the bureau-drawer,” 
yelled Tiny. 

By this time Rob rushed in. 

“I didn’t any such of a thing,” screamed Rob. “I 
opened the drawer to get my ball, and Tiny went and stuck 
her nose in, and I didn’t know it, and shut the drawer.” 

“ He did — he did,” cried Tiny ; and Mammy, after repri- 
manding Rob, went to the nursery, where she soothed the 
precious Tiny on her bosom, who went to sleep sobbing 
“ He shut — my — nose up in — the — bureau-draw.” 

Tiny having been put to sleep, Mammy returned to Jas- 
per’s room for the purpose of resuming her story. 

“ Well, well, where was I ?” said she, seating herself 
again. 

“You said one of the heirs was not so far off.” 

“ Oh ! yes. The property all went to the boy’s grand- 
mother on the mother’s side, cutting off the Worthingtons 
in Virginia entirely j and from the grandma it went to the 
Marchmonts. Well, Governor Worthington had a friend 
named Faircastle. He was a great lawyer, and a member of 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 103 

Congress from Virginia, and the two were like brothers — 
mighty intimate. 

“After Gov. Worthington’s death, Lawyer Faircastle vol- 
unteered in the case, and tried his best to get the property 
for the Governor’s brother, but couldn’t, and they tell me 
Lawyer Faircastle wore himself out on it, and when he died 
he made his son and his grandson (you see he was mighty 
old, for he ain’t been dead so very long) — he made ’em vow 
they’d worry at it if it took ’em a lifetime and no end of 
mitigation , for he thought Gov. Worthington’s money ought 
to belong to a Worthington and not to a Marchmont, who 
was no more to the Governor than a side of sole-leather ; 
and now I tell you — ’ ’ 

“ Mammy, baby’s done waked up, ’’said Polly. 

“ La, child, I never will finish ; but never mind, I’ll tell 
you all about it some of these times. I know it by heart. 
I learned it when I was a girl like Polly, and my old master 
used to give such big dinners during the Spreem Cote, and 
the lawyers and the judges used to come out to dine, and 
there was no end of argufying and sputifying over the miti- 
gation in the great Worthington and Marchmont Law Case. 
And now,’’ continued Mammy, lowering her voice, “ I’ve 
got in my procession somethin’ as belonged to Gov. Worthing- 
ton. My mother gave it to me on her death-bed, but no 
Marchmont will get it ; none but a Faircastle, if I ever sees 


one. 


104 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Avis Frothingham was an orphan. Little was known of 
her father, Col. Frothingham, except that he had met with 
his beautiful American wife during her travels in Europe. 
There were many conjectures as to his nationality, and 
these conjectures finally ended in the conclusion that he 
was an adventurer. His wife had several children, all of 
whom died during their infancy except one. That one was 
Avis. 

Mrs. Frothingham fell a victim to consumption at the age 
of twenty-seven, leaving the little Avis motherless when 
only five years old. Col. Frothingham survived his wife but 
one year. He was mortally wounded in a duel between him- 
self and a brother officer in France, but lingered long enough 
to consign his only child (Avis) to the care and guardianship 
of a friend of his wife’s in America • that friend was Mr. 
Tipton Tracey , the father of Mrs. Beresford. As Avis grew 
to womanhood, education did much for her, but nature did 
more. Added to an exceedingly refined and delicate phy- 
sique, she was gifted with a charm and fascination of manner 
which, if indescribable, was equally inimitable. 

Many really worthy men swelled the list of her suitors, 
over whom she ever succeeded in maintaining an easy and 
graceful sway, notwithstanding they received the fatal “ no, ” 


IN DEAD EARNEST \ 


105 

which precluded the possibility of their being nearer or dearer 
than friends. 

Miss Frothingham’s preference for the retirement of Sher- 
wood during the summer, instead of the eclat of being the 
reigning belle of some fashionable watering-place, was con- 
sidered somewhat of an eccentricity. 

The gossips endeavored to account for it by declaring 
there was “ a method in such madness:” that exquisite 
complexion could not stand the ravages of late hours at balls 
and operas in the city during the winter season, unless re- 
paired by perfect rest, retirement, and healthful breezes. 

Whether this was so or not, after a few months in the city 
during the winter, Avis was pretty certain to seek again her 
highland retreat, and pretty generally was followed too by 
the victims of her winter’s campaign. But if her object was 
to renew her color, it was also to preserve her health. 

Her mother had drooped in the perfection of her bloom, like 
a beautiful white lily ; and Avis, knew, alas ! too well, that 
to herself had descended the heritage of an extremely fragile 
constitution. But to do Avis justice, there were other rea- 
sons why she sought the cool shades of a far-away Virginia 
homestead. She loved the country, loved trees, flowers, 
birds. Loved horseback exercise, loved to be untrammel- 
led, and loved her genuine, true-hearted, unpretending 
friends, the Beresfords. 

Although she was hardly aware of the fact herself, there 
was within her an innate craving after something truer, 
nobler, more enduring than the artificial glare in which the 
butterfly of fashion singes her wings. 


io6 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Alternating thus between retirement and the gay world, 
she lived up to the twofold nature she inherited, namely, 
that of frivolity from the father, and true and lovable wo- 
manhood from the mother. 

It was a noticeable fact that Sidney Rainsford was a much 
more frequent visitor at Sherwood when Miss Frothingham 
was there than when she was not. Was this hitherto invul- 
nerable, platonic man about to swell the number of her wor- 
shippers ? Some said yes and some said no, while all pre- 
dicted that whom he sought he would win. He was a man 
one did not meet with often in a lifetime. 

So this tall, dark Virginian, this specimen of the “ old 
noblesse,” around whom seemed still to linger the halo of 
romance which characterized the cavaliers of England from 
whom he was descended — this hero had actually been seen rid- 
ing with Avis Frothingham. A handsome pair they made 
too, and a striking contrast they were indeed — he on his fine 
Arabian steed Prince, and she upon her high-mettled horse 
Zephyr, which lifted his feet and put them down as daintily 
as if he feared polluting his hoofs with the rich Virginia soil 
he trod. There was nothing which surpassed the grace of 
his motions unless it was the grace of his mistress. 

No wonder Jasper’s fellow-traveller (the owner of the 
fancy shop) stepped over the head of her two-year-old child 
as it sat in the door eating bread and molasses ; no wonder 
she forgot her child, herself, and her shop, in her frantic 
efforts to get to the front to see Miss Frothingham and Mr. 
Rainsford go by on horseback. 

Then could be heard such comments as these: “He’ll 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


107 


die game ! There never was a Rainsford yet that didn’t 
or, “ She’d better not be too sure of her prize ; there’s many 
a slip ’twixt cup and lip ; for, after all, the Rainsfords are 
a tough set of men, and go more for worth than wealth. 
But stranger things have happened.” So the outside look- 
ers-on made up their minds to accept the situation, and not 
to be surprised at any thing that might occur. 

Meantime Mr. Beresford was glad for Avis to draw 
Rainsford out. He was entirely too quiet for a man of his 
parts ; but no wonder — he persisted in leading a bachelor 
life, moped up in that grand old mansion of Maplewood , with 
no one but his servants. 

And of what avail was it to Sidney Rainsford politically 
if he did once in a while give such an exhibition of his tal- 
ents as to bring down the plaudits of his mother State ? — what 
good did it do, when he went back into retirement and bur- 
ied himself at Maplewood for six months afterwards ! 

Mr. Beresford was out of patience with him ; Virginia 
had need of such men ; he owed it to his State to become a 
leader, and he owed it to the name he inherited to throw the 
weight of his influence at the feet of the best country upon 
the face of the whole earth — the long-silent, long-suffering 
mother-land, the “ Old Dominion,” 


io8 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

There was something delightfully natural and amusing 
to Jasper even in the mischief of the Sherwood children. 
Probably this was owing to the fact that she had been for 
nine long years in a house where no child’s voice was heard. 
To watch their ways, to interpret their infant prattle, to 
note their little sorrows and their joys, was to Jasper like 
reading from a new leaf in nature’s book ; and her home was 
so much brighter than Hester Grantland’s, that her heart 
lifted itself up in thankfulness that her ‘ ‘ lines had fallen in 
such pleasant places.” 

Jasper was not by any means over-indulgent. There was 
much of which she was obliged to disapprove, much to cor- 
rect, much to prune away ; for a nervous, delicate mother, 
who is obliged to turn over her children to the care of ser- 
vants, will find out to her sorrow some day that those chil- 
dren have not been trained up in the way that they should 
go. So Jasper studied her pupils as she would have done a 
book, and soon learned them by heart. 

Pink was of a loving, gentle nature, and no trouble. Rob 
had his faults and was at times irrepressible, but he was gen- 
erous and forgiving, with a heart fully as large as his little 
body could carry. Tip and Tiny were the youngest, and 
required the most management. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


IO9 

At first, mournful lamenatations were raised for very- 
slight punishment, namely, having to remain in the school- 
room a few moments longer than usual, or standing in a 
corner with the face to the wall ; but in course of time Rob 
discovered that running off was not the best way to get 
along in the world, and Tip and Tiny found out that stealing 
the matches and kindling a fire under the bed in the best com- 
pany room in the house was not the surest road to happiness. 

** Poor darlings,” said Mrs. Beresford, ” they have been 
spoiled ; but really I have so many servants to look after, so 
much company to entertain, and such poor health with it 
all, that I have not been able to do much else but nurse 
the little things and turn them over to Mammy. I hope 
they will all come right some day ;” and Mrs. Beresford 
enumerated various instances of children who were much less 
controlled than hers — children who finally grew up to be all 
that their fond parents could wish. 

As for Rob, his mother felt sure he would become a clergy- 
man. ” Had he not been discovered standing upon an in- 
verted clothes-basket, robed in her best night-gown, harangu- 
ing the little negroes, whom he made stand up or kneel 
down, as the notion took him. His text showed decided 
originality ; it ran thus : 

“ The outside is the inside, and the inside is the outside ; 
and them that knows it believes it, and them that don’t know 
it don’t believe it.” 

Mrs. Beresford imagined it was a commentary upon the 
discourse of a celebrated divine of her acquaintance, who 
was noted for his metaphysical powers. 


I IO 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Mother and father were divided in regard to the future of 
the heir of Sherwood. Mr. Beresford thought he would be 
a lawyer, because he wished him to be. In truth, Rob had 
decidedly an argumentative turn, which was proved on the 
occasion of his stumping his toe, at which time he ran, cry- 
ing, into the library for sympathy in his misfortune. 

“ What, my boy ! have you stumped your toes ?” said Mr. 
Beresford. “You mustn’t do that; you will stump them 
off, and then you can’t run.” 

“ Yes I can,” replied the infant, suddenly drying his tears 
and rubbing his eye with one corner of his fist, as if winding 
up the flood-gates of his grief. “ Yes I can. Horses, they 
runs, and they haven’t got any toes.” 

“ That boy is going to be a lawyer,” said Mr. Beresford, 
striking his fist upon the library-table. ‘ ‘ I only hope he may 
follow in the footsteps of his illustrious grandfather. ’ ’ 

So while one parent predicted that he would enter the 
church and another that he would distinguish himself at the 
bar, Rob quietly made up his mind to become not only the 
driver, but the proprietor, of the celebrated “ Fairy Belle,” 
with its superb horses, which plied between Chatsworth and 
Ashwood Depot. 

He had already lost his heart with Jasper, as he proved 
by wearing his shoes and keeping his face cleaner than he 
had ever done before. 

“ It really does seem like magic,” exclaimed Avis Froth- 
ingham, after Jasper had been at Sherwood for some time ; 
“ you have revolutionized these children ; even Mr. Rains- 
ford has observed it.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


I I I 

“ Has he ?” replied Jasper, evincing by her earnest man- 
ner how intensely she was gratified. 

“ Indeed he has. Pray tell me in what way you have be- 
witched them ?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Jasper, hesitating ; ” perhaps it is 
partly because I love them.” 

“ What is the topic of conversation ?” inquired Sidney 
Rainsford, who, having heard his name called, came up just 
at this time. 

“ Miss St. John was saying that the secret of her success 
with the children was probably owing to the fact of her lov- 
ing them, ’ ’ said Avis, taking it upon herself to explain. 

” Undoubtedly,” exclaimed Rainsford, seating himself by 
Avis. ” I approve of your mild but firm policy, Miss St. 
John. My mother exercised the same toward myself. If she 
had not done so, I fear I should have been a reckless, good- 
for-nothing waif by this time. These little embryo men and 
women are gifted with an instinct which very soon tells 
them who are their true friends, and they are equally quick 
in discerning any lack of affection or interest on the part of 
those who have the care of them ; but I should think, Miss 
St. John, the quality in which you particularly excelled was 
patience.” 

” Why so ?” asked Jasper, looking up from the delicate 
piece of lace-work on which she was engaged. 

” I must not specify time or place, which brought me to 
such a conclusion, else I shall have no more opportunities 
of taking notes.” 

” Notwithstanding your reticence, I strongly suspect you 


I 12 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


of eavesdropping during some of my music lessons," replied 
Jasper, once more turning her attention to her fancy-work. 

"You shall not extract my secret from me by any such 
insinuation," said Mr. Rainsford ; " but I think I shall put 
your patience still further to the test," he added, changing 
his seat at the same time. 

" In what manner ?" 

" By begging that you will play for me once more that air 
I liked so much last evening." 

" With pleasure," said Jasper, laying aside her work and 
going at once to the piano. 

" You know what piece I mean ?" 

" Certainly." And Jasper, having adjusted the stool to 
her height and requirement, now brought forth a shower of 
music with her deft fingers, while her hands seemed to chase 
each other from one end of the row of ivory keys to the 
other. 

" Now, Miss St. John, how can you do so ?" exclaimed 
Sidney Rainsford. ‘ ‘ I did not ask for any of your musical 
gymnastics. * ’ 

" I know," said Jasper, laughing a little, " I am only get- 
ting myself in tune. Now listen," said she, swaying her 
head and body slightly to the music as she merged into the 
tune. 

It was a remarkable coincidence that the melody was the 
same which had attracted Abel’s attention. 

" Thank you," said Mr. Rainsford, when Jasper had fin- 
ished it. " Will you tell me what is the name of that com- 
position ?" 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


113 


44 It has none.” 

44 Has no name ! — has it no composer either ?” said Mr. 
Rainsford, with an intuition of who the real author was. 

44 Of course it has,” replied Jasper laughing, and slightly- 
confused ; 44 but the author is not one of any reputation.” 

And now Mr. Rainsford smiled, with a perfect under- 
standing of how the case stood. 

44 Well, your melody is deserving of a better fate,” said 
he. 44 May I name it ?” 

4 4 Certainly, I shall be most happy. ’ ’ 

44 We will call it, then, 4 The Prayer of the South,* said 
Sidney Rainsford ; and his face grew suddenly grave, and 
he seemed lost in deep thought for a few moments ; then 
rousing himself he added, 44 There is something indescrib- 
able in the effect of that melody. Pray tell me, Miss St. 
John — that is, if you do not consider it an impertinent ques- 
tion — what suggested the air ?’ ’ 

Sudden and bitter recollections caused a film to bedew Jas- 
per’s averted eyes, which Rainsford did not fail to observe. 

Recovering herself she said, 44 I was in trouble, and could 
not sleep. ’ ’ 

Sidney Rainsford silently reverenced her for her honesty, 
and with true delicacy tried to dispel the thoughts which he 
found out he had roused up by his malapropos question, 
and Avis joining in, there was a momentary sparkle of wit 
between the two on the subject of the idosycrasies of com- 
posers. 

44 May I look at that collection of Mendelssohn’s ?” asked 
Rainsford, again directing his attention to Jasper. 


* 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


114 

‘ * Certainly, ’ ’ she replied, handing it to him. ‘ ‘ It was pre- 
sented to me by a dear friend many years ago, and is a little 
the worse for wear, as you will perceive. ’ * 

Sidney Rainsford turned over the leaves carelessly for a 
while, then closed the book, but as he did so his attention 
was arrested by the name upon the back. 

“ Jasper St. John !” he exclaimed. Then taking from 
his pocket a small Russian-leather wallet, such as gentlemen 
frequently use, he added, ‘ ‘ I had that name brought to my 
attention some years ago and he drew forth a card upon 
which was written in pencil the name of “ Jasper St. John.’* 
“ How singular !” exclaimed Avis. “ How can you ex- 
plain such a coincidence, Mr. Rainsford ?” 

“ I was in the North some years ago,” replied Sidney. 
“ I cannot say exactly how long since, but I was scarcely 
more than a youth, that is, eighteen or nineteen. You see I 
am old enough to be indefinite. Well, as I was saying, I was 
North, and had occasion to take the Philadelphia train. 
On that train was an old gentleman, a Quaker of striking 
appearance and benevolent countenance. ’ ’ 

Jasper’s interest now became awakened, as she showed 
by the kindling look which shot from her gray eyes and her 
attitude of earnest attention. 

Mr. Rainsford continued his story : “ Under the care of 
that gentleman was a child, with whom he hardly seemed to 
know what to do, for he scarcely withdrew his vigilant eye 
from the sprightly, restless little creature during the whole 
journey. I think he felt some serious apprehension that she 
might get away from him and ride either upon the engine 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


”5 

or the cow-catcher. The child, however, seemed worn out 
at last with her own activity, and fell into a profound sleep, 
much to the relief of her Argus-eyed guardian. In the mean- 
time a snow-storm raged, and just as we reached the city 
the gale became furious. As we neared the depot passen- 
gers hurried toward the platform, but my Quaker friend tried 
in vain to arouse the little girl. Seeing his dilemma, I took 
her in my arms and carried her through the snow to the 
carriage in waiting. The child was named Jasper, her trunk 
marked Jasper St. John. I don’t know why I did so, but 
I wrote the name upon this card, and here it has been ever 
since. And this is the beginning and end of my acquaint- 
ance with my little fellow-passenger. ’ ’ 

“ The beginning, but not the end,” said Jasper with fer- 
vor. “ I must now thank you for an act of kindness which 
I did not fully appreciate at the time, for I and your fellow- 
passenger are the same ; and well do I remember the pelting 
hail which seemed to take especial aim at my eyes as I strug- 
gled to free myself from the protection of my best friend.” 

“ Indeed ! And are you and my former little friend one 
and the same ? Had I known this, I should have presented 
my card long ago” said Mr. Rainsford. “Miss Frothing- 
ham, * ’ he continued, feeling that Avis had been left a little 
too much out of the conversation, ‘ ‘ congratulate me upon 
meeting with an old acquaintance. * ’ 

“I do so with pleasure. I am not surprised that you 
made a note of Miss St. John’s name. I have often been 
struck with it. Pray tell me, Jasper, darling, are you relat- 
ed to the St. John’s of Warwick ?” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


1 16 

" I do not know,” said Jasper. “To tell the truth, I 
know very little of my pedigree. ’ 9 

“ How honest in you to say so. There are few with such 
a name as yours, who would not make the best of it.” 

“ The barren nobility of a name is nothing if divested of 
the virtue that made it,” said Jasper, “ and to be proud of 
a name I should have to do something to add to the glory 
of it.” 

“ I agree with you,” said Sidney Rainsford. “It has 
been said Virginians are a little too prone to nourish their 
pride upon the deeds of their ancestors. After many re- 
verses and much suffering we are getting out of that, how- 
ever ; but, as a favorite author of mine has said, ‘ No one 
ever sounded the heights and depths of life, and drew from 
it the teachings and blessings it is capable of giving, without 
enduring suffering sharp and real as a part of it.’ ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Jasper had heard frequently from Abel since her resi- 
dence in Mr. Beresford’s family. The mail always came at 
breakfast-time, and she usually found her letters near her 
plate ; and well did she know the bold, free handwriting 
upon the envelope that met her glance. 

“ That handwriting shows character,” said Avis Frothing- 
ham, “ and really it must have a history. Jasper, darling, I 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 1 1 7 

fancy I see a peculiar look in your face when you read those 
letters, a look as if — but I must not say it.” ‘ 

“ Why ?” asked Jasper, “ you may say what you choose. 
The letters are from a cousin for whom I have only lately 
begun to have a cousinly affection. ’ * 

“ Are they ! But cousins are so dangerous.” 

“ Not to me,” said Jasper. 

“ Indeed ! why ?” 

“ Simply because they are cousins.” 

“ Explain, dear,” said Avis, shaking back her rings of 
hair and lifting up her lazy dark eyes. 

“Simply because they are cousins,” said Jasper again. 
“ It seems perfectly natural to love one’s cousin as a brother. 
In all fiction where cousins are the lovers I cease to become 
interested.” 

“ You do ! How strange ! But you are a dear, honest, 
original girl, and I believe just what you tell me. Then 
that cousin of yours is not a lover ?’ ’ 

Jasper hesitated. “ I did not say that ,” she at length re- 
plied with some embarrassment and no slight annoyance. 

“ There now,” said Avis, “what have I done ! I have 
unwittingly become the possessor of a secret. I am out of 
patience with myself. Jasper — may I call you Jasper ? — 
Yes ? Well, Jasper, dear, I would give any thing to resem- 
ble you ; to have your character, your self-poise. You don’t 
know what an immense power it is. Do you know I think 
Sidney Rainsford likes you — yes, actually likes you — nothing 
else. He will never love mortal woman. 

“ Yes, he expects too much for that ; but it is something 


1 18 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


rare to have won even his regard. I have been nearer to a 
friendship with him than any person on earth, but we have 
never gotten beyond a certain point. Other men would 
have died for the smiles I have bestowed upon Sidney 
Rainsford ; he only takes them as his due. Do you think 
you would have loved me if- — if you had been a man ?’ * 

“ I dare say I should,” said Jasper, “ since they say there 
is something fatally attractive about you.” 

“ Not to all,” replied Avis, shaking her head and sighing. 

“ Honestly, Jasper,” said Avis, as she sat upon the floor 
in her snow-white wrapper, embracing her knees with her 
clasped hands, while her wealth of hair flowed to the many- 
colored carpet — “ honestly, now, if you could imagine your- 
self to be Sidney Rainsford, do you think you could ever 
love me?” 

“ I think I could, if you wanted me to,” said Jasper. 

“ Oh ! you dear, honest, earnest creature,” said Avis, get- 
ting nearer and putting her head in Jasper’s lap. 

“ How very silly you must think me ! Now kiss me and 
forgive a wicked, wicked thought I have had about you. 
You know Sidney and myself are only friends — nothing more 
— but the very thought that he knew you so long, so very 
long ago, long before he knew there was such a person in the 
world as Avis Frothingham, has concerned me. Haven’t I 
been a childish, good-for-nothing creature ?” 

” I should say you had,” said Jasper, playing with the 
long hair of Avis. 

“ There it is again ! But I see I am forgiven ; and now, 
dear, please don’t call me Miss Frothingham : call me Avis, 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


II 9 

won't you ? When I come to Sherwood I want to be Avis 
to everybody.” 

44 I want to be as free as a bird — besides, free to fly away 
mentally and physically if I choose. As to Sidney and my- 
self, I think he used to look upon me pretty much as a large 
mastiff does upon a playful kitten with whom he has been 
domesticated — that is, with condescending toleration. He 
is different now. I really begin to believe that he thinks 
there is some good in me. Would you believe that he was 
one of the most distinguished heroes in the Southern army ?” 

Jasper had not heard it. 

44 I am not surprised, for there is nothing which exceeds 
his valor but his modesty. After the war he dropped his 
title, and his friends are so well acquainted with his tastes 
that they rarely address him except as Mr. Rainsford. 

44 And you never heard of his military career? Well, I 
will give you a glimpse of him as a soldier. 

44 His sympathies had been with the Union, but his native 
State came first in his affections, and when Virginia seceded, 
he joined his fate to hers and battled for her to the last. 

44 Not only did he do that, but he equipped a company at 
his own expense, and would accept no position in it higher 
than that of color-bearer. On one occasion the flag-staff 
was shot in two. He tore off the colors, tied them around 
his waist, and when the fight was over, he was found with 
the flag around him, red with blood and riddled with shot. 
He was desperately wounded then, but his recuperative 
powers are splendid, and he got well. But I tire you with 
the history of my hero.” 


120 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“ Not at all,” said Jasper, still weaving plaits out of the 
hair that looked like spun gold, “ not in the least. I wish 
you would tell me more.” 

“ Do you ? Well, there is magic in your touch, and as 
long as you are fingering with my hair I can refuse you 
nothing. Put that shawl around me, darling ; I am such a 
good-for-nothing, delicate creature, you know. I’ve been 
coughing lately and must be careful. 

‘‘ I must tell you more about Sidney Rainsford. Well, he 
Was wounded repeatedly, and was nearly captured once be- 
sides. I heard it from an eye-witness. The way of it was 
this : 

‘ ‘ There was skirmishing in front of Richmond. Sidney 
ventured nearer the enemies’ lines than was prudent. Sud- 
denly he was surrounded by a body of soldiers, from whom 
all hope of escape seemed utterly impossible. 

” Throwing the reins over the neck of his magnificent 
charger, and putting spurs into his flanks, with a pistol ex- 
tended in each hand, he plunged through the astonished 
crowd, who were almost ready to cheer him as they saw him 
flying in the distance. Wasn’t that glorious ?” 

“ It was just like him,” said Jasper, catching some of the 
enthusiasm of Avis Frothingham. 

‘‘And now,” said Avis, rising to her feet, ‘‘you see I 
have some reason to be proud of my hero friend. Our 
friend, I suppose I must say now,” said Avis, with almost a 
touch of pathos in her voice. 

‘‘ Kiss me good-night, dear. I have kept you up. I’m 
afraid we shall not feel like being ready for breakfast, but I 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


I 21 


am certain you will be there if the hour is four o’clock,” 
and Avis went to her room, leaving Jasper to the compan- 
ionship of her own thoughts. 

Yes, Abel had told Jasper of his love ; told her that under 
an indifferent, almost harsh manner he had disguised his 
true feelings. He realized in her absence how cheerless life 
would be without her, and declared that on her depended 
every hope of his being any thing but a doubting wanderer 
on the face of the earth. 

This was the tone of each letter that came, and Jasper 
wrote frequently to her cousin, notwithstanding Avis pre- 
tended to think something might come of it, and privately 
drew the attention of others to the length and frequency of 
the letters directed to Abel Grantland. 

A twelvemonth went by, and Jasper felt as if life were 
just beginning — so short, so bright, so joyous were the 
hours. She was happy in her sunny Southern home. As 
yet not one cloud had darkened the horizon. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

“ Lightly falls the foot of time which only treads on flowers/' 

Jasper could scarcely realize that a whole year had passed 
since she had become a member of the Beresford household. 
She had become quite well acquainted with the pleasant 


122 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


circle of friends which frequented Sherwood, but more 
especially so with Mr. Rainsford. 

Notwithstaniding Avis was absent for some months, 
scarcely a day passed that Sidney and his dog Sultan did 
not make their appearance at Mr. Beresford’s house. 

Avis was quite surprised on her return to hear how sociable 
Mr. Rainsford had been. Her suspicions might have been 
aroused but for the fact that she had too much confidence 
in the power of her own attractions to suppose for an instant 
that any one could compete with her in a game of hearts. 

Avis was not at all dspleased when Mr. Beresford insinu- 
ated that Sidney was her especial property, and she only 
flushed up a little when her old friend said it was time for 
her to stop her pranks and close the lists with the most gal- 
lant knight of them all. 

‘ * And notwithstanding your admiration for ‘ Sir Knight, ’ ’ * 
responded Avis, ‘ ‘ I have heard that you once did not agree 
at all in your views." 

" Ah, my dear, that was before the war. I was for seces- 
sion, Sidney for union ; but I was an old man, Sidney a 
young one. I could excuse what I considered a want of 
experience, and he was magnanimous enough to treat me with 
the respect due to age. We tacitly agreed to disagree, and 
never mentioned the subject." 

Avis threw down the embroidery with which she had been 
engaged, and seating herself upon a cushion at Mr. Beres- 
ford’s feet, said, with her most arch and winning manner, 
“ Please tell Jasper about Mr. Rainsford ; he was censured 
once for his political opinons, was he not ?’ ’ 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


123 

“Oh! you sly puss!” said Mr. Beresford, patting Avis 
upon the hand which she rested upon his knee. 

“ Is it only Miss St. John who wishes to hear about Sid- 
ney ?” 

“ Of course not,” said Avis, conscious that she was 
blushing very deeply, and breaking into a smile that always 
seemed to intensify her dimples. “ Of course not ; 1 never 
tire of hearing about a brave man, but Miss St. John seemed 
so much interested on one occasion when I was relating one 
or two incidents in Mr. Rainsford’s soldier life that I 
thought she would like to hear more about him. Your 
opinions were not the same. I should not have touched 
upon that point I suppose.” 

“ No harm done, my dear. Time mellows all things, and 
there are some who now say that Sidney Rainsford’s words 
seem almost like prophecy.” 

“ But they created excitement at the time, did they not ?” 

“ Yes, very great. But come, let us go out upon the 
verandah. This room is close. We will chat in the open 
air if you ladies will put up with my pipe,” said Mr. Beres- 
ford, making a motion to leave the room. 

“ Agreed !” and to the long gallery they all repaired, and 
Dandy having filled his master’s pipe, Mr. Beresford puffed 
away some time before resuming the subject under discus- 
sion. 

“ Yes,” said he at length, “ the young man was heir to 
an ancient name. He was called upon to define his posi- 
tion, and astonished us all by coming out strongly for the 
Union, He, one of the largest slave- owners in the South, 


124 


IN DEAD EARNEST 


asked if Slavery was worth the Union . He for one was 
willing to sacrifice his slave property to preserve a united 
government.” He wound up his speech with a perfect 
burst of eloquence, and said that although he would battle 
for the Union so long as he was in it, if Virginia seceded , 
and called for volunteers to defend her from invasion, he 
did not expect to be found far behind those who were crying 
out so loudly for blood, unless it was in retreat. 

“ He was true to his word. All know his record during 
the war — but here he comes, and we must drop the subject 
for the present, for there is nothing he dislikes so much as 
any allusion to those dark and stormy days. ’ ’ 

By this time Sidney had dismounted, and Sultan, leaping 
and frolicking, first in front of his master, and then at his 
side, escorted him into the portico. 

All were delighted to see the visitor, and Avis invited him 
to a seat near herself, and playfully reproached him for not 
having come over the day before. 

‘ * I was detained at home by some friends, who, in the 
hope of inducing me to join them- in their annual deer-hunt, 
took Maplewood in their route. I am losing my taste for 
such things now, but I came over to see if Mr. Beresford 
would join the party.” 

‘ ‘ Ah, no, my dear fellow, it is rather early in the season ; 
besides, it is as much as I can do to keep the foxes down.” 

“ Speaking of foxes,” said Sidney, “ your favorite hound, 
Phantom, is at Maplewood.” 

“ Phantom ! Bless my soul, I am glad to hear it. I 
thought I had lost him. My wife has named him Phantom 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 125 

on account of his attenuated appearance ; nevertheless, he 
is the finest of the whole pack. ’ ’ 

‘"You forget, my dear,” said Mrs. Beresford, “that he 
won his name partly on account of his expert way of spirit- 
ing off whatever eatables struck his fancy. Mr. Rains- 
ford, your housekeeper had better look to her larder. 
Nothing is safe as long as Phantom is about.” 

“ Now, my dear,” responded Mr. Beresford, knocking 
the ashes from his pipe, “ that is a downright slander. I 
would almost as soon one would speak ill of my children 
as of one of my hounds. Racer, Rover, Rouser, Jack, 
and Phantom — in fact, the whole pack are dogs of unex- 
ceptionable character. Indeed, I don’t know fifteen better- 
behaved dogs anywhere.” 

The chase was Mr. Beresford’s passion ; so his wife said 
nothing, although she was “ of the same opinion still,” and 
well she might be. Frequently did the servants report a 
ham, a shoulder of mutton, or a dish of turkey-salad as 
having been abstracted by Phantom and his followers, who 
lay in ambush. On one occasion when a fruit-cake disap- 
peared Mrs. Beresford’s patience was sorely tried, and she 
declared that her husband’s place had beeen misnamed, and 
should have been called Dogwood instead of Sherwood. 

This was the nearest that amiable lady ever came to find- 
ing fault with her husband’s proclivities, except on the occa- 
sion of the Bishop’s annual visit. 

It so happened that services could only be held atr- night, 
and Mr. Beresford, a loyal churchman, and a vestryman, 
marshalled his family, guests, retainers and all, and himself 


126 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


riding on his famous ” Old Gray” at the head of the pro- 
cession, the Sherwood people set out for Chatsworth 
Church. 

Suddenly there was the sound of the huntsman’s horn in 
the distance ; then was heard the ‘ ‘ music of the hounds. ’ ’ 
Evidently some of Mr. Beresford’s neighbors were in pur- 
suit of the fox. Human nature is weak. The church-goers 
were half way to Chatsworth ; but now the chase grew more 
exciting — the dogs were on the track — and the temptation 
was more than Mr. Beresford could resist. So putting spurs 
to his horse, the last that his wife saw of him was when he 
was flying, Gilpen-like, across the fields regardless of wife, 
children, and friends. 

It is needless to say that Mr. Beresford’s seat at Chats- 
worth Church was vacant that night ; and when that gentle- 
man was bantered on account of his conduct, he took refuge 
in the argument that Sampson had carried on the sport on 
a much larger scale, but not under such trying circum- 
stances. 

But to return to Phantom. 

” Yes, he is a noble dog ; he is the swiftest of the pack,” 
said Mr. Beresford. ” In one of my hunts a short time 
ago we started a wildcat. It was beautiful to witness the 
dog’s sagacity and the wonderful manner in which he man- 
aged the attack. Phantom guilty of a lawless act — Phan- 
tom steal ! Mrs. Beresford, I am surprised at you.” 

Just then was heard the familiar yelp of a hound. 

” Ah,” said Mr. Beresford, starting up suddenly, ” that 
is Phantom’s voice. Rainsford, he must have followed 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 12J 

you,” and Mr. Beresford cried out, ” here, Phantom ; here, 
Phantom ; here, my good fellow !” 

Phantom obeyed his master’s call, but came up under 
difficulties. He had evidently been on an excursion to Mr. 
Rainsford’ s dairy, and had done battle in a cream-jar, and 
although the dog came off conqueror, the crockery had been 
the worse for it, and Phantom now wore around his neck 
the badge of his dishonesty in the shape of a stone rim, 
which was neither convenient nor becoming. 

Even Mr. Rainsford laughed heartily at the turn matters 
had taken, and Mr. Beresford retired in the direction of the 
stables for the purpose of extricating from his difficulties the 
‘ ‘ pride of the pack. ’ ’ 

“Well, so much for dogs,” said Avis as Mr. B. disap- 
peared. ” Now let’s talk of something else.” 

* * With pleasure, ’ ’ responded Mr. Rainsford. * ‘ Of what ?’ * 

” Maplewood. I am positively dying to see Maplewood. 
The place has a State reputation. Mr. Rainsford, why 
don’t you invite us to drive there ?” 

‘ ‘ Would you go ?’ ’ asked Sidney, with some animation, a 
bright thought striking him all at once. 

“ Of course, if Mrs. Beresford will be our chaperon. 
Will you, darling ?” asked Avis in her irresistibly coaxing 
mannner. 

‘ ‘ Of course, dear, if you wish it ; but when ?’ ’ 

“ At your earliest convenience,” put in Sidney. ” I had 
not thought you would condescend to visit my bachelor 
abode, but I shall feel truly gratified if you will do so. 
Suppose you drive over to-morrow.” 


128 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Mrs. Beresford shook her head. 

“ To-morrow ! Alas ! we are the slaves of our crops. 
We keep few pleasure horses since the war, and my car- 
riage-pair have been pressed into service to haul off tobacco 
to Chatsworth.” 

“ It is a matter of no consequence,” responded Sidney. 
“ My trotters Corisande and Fantine are standing idle in 
the stable. I will drive over in a light landau for you my- 
self.” 

“Oh! charming,” exclaimed Avis, clapping her pretty 
hands. “ We go, of course.” 

“ Miss St. John,” said Sidney, going to the farther end of 
the portico where Jasper was seated with the children, “ Will 
you do me an especial favor ?” 

” If I can,” said Jasper, looking up from the book of pic- 
tures she had been explaining to the boys. 

“ To-morrow is Saturday, is it not ?” asked Sidney ? 

“It is.” 

“ I am going to drive over for Mrs. Beresford and Miss 
Frothingham ; won’t you join the party ?” 

Jasper hesitated. 

“ Yes, she will,” put in Rob, “ ’cause Pm going.” 

“ And I,” said Pink. “ And I,” echoed Tip. “ And me 
too," cried Tiny. 

“ Yes, everybody is going,” said Mr. Rainsford, encourag- 
ing the idea. “ I have a vehicle which will accommodate 
all of the juveniles. I will take charge of the ladies in a 
separate conveyance. You will go, will you not, Miss St. 
John?” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 129 

“ Of course,” urged Mrs. Beresford. “ We will not con- 
sent for her to remain at home. * * 

“ But have I your promise,” asked Sidney, still addressing 
himself to Jasper. “ We shall have an excellent opportu- 
nity of discussing the merits of that painting I was describ- 
ing to you a few days ago.” 

Jasper could no longer decline, and her voice was al- 
most drowned by the children crying out, “Yes, yes, she 
is going, Mr. Rainsford.” 

Mrs. Beresford rather demurred when she heard of Sid- 
ney’s plan about the children. She was afraid they would 
give trouble, but Mr. Rainsford assured her they would 
contribute to his enjoyment, and the plan was agreed upon. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Mr. Beresford was glad to hear that Maplewood was to be 
open once more. It was time it had an airing, if only for 
an evening. He would join the party himself. Some of the 
happiest days of his boyhood had been spent at the old 
place. 

True to the appointed hour, Sidney drove up the follow- 
ing afternoon, and the beautiful trotters pawed and 
champed their bits in front of the Sherwood mansion. 

Mammy undertook to be the bearer of the tidings that 


130 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


the carriage was at the door, but Avis, as usual, was not 
ready, and had yet to give the finishing touch to her curls. 

“ Lor’ sakes alive, Miss Avis, they are a waitin’ for you. 
Kerosene and Camphine are mighty impatient. They are a 
rarin’ and chargin’, but it don’t make any difference to Mr. 
Rainsford ; they can’t cut up any capers with him j he can 
just hold ’em like they were a passle of mice.” 

“ Mammy, you’ll be the death of me yet,” said Avis, 
looking for her gloves. “ Now I’m ready.” 

“ Coming, coming,” called out Avis to Mr. Beresford, 
who had stationed himself at the foot of the stairs, and who 
usually took that position, watch in hand, when the ladies 
were going anywhere, and continued to hurry them up 
until they made their appearance. Indeed, so habitual had 
this conduct become on Mr. Beresford’s part that it had 
lost its effect, and his admonitions were unheeded. 

At last all were fairly on their way to Maplewood, and 
Avis, seated by Mr. Rainsford, chatted merrily on the re- 
spective merits of Corisande and Fantine, while Mrs. Beres- 
ford and Jasper enjoyed in silence the bracing air and beauti- 
ful scenery. 

After a rapid drive of about two or three miles, just aftet 
making a turn at the foot of a hill, Sidney checked his horses, 
and Maplewood burst upon the delighted vision. 

“ Isn’t it a noble mansion ?” said Mr. Beresford, who had 
just galloped up. “ The race of men that built such 
houses has passed away.” And now turning in his saddle, 
Mr. Beresford pointed with his riding whip to the broad 
expanse before them, and to the far-off mountains which 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 1 3 1 

seemed to enclose the valley like an amphitheatre with a 
wavy line of the Blue Ridge and Alleghanies. 

“ Could nature be more lavish!” exclaimed Mr. Beresford. 
“ As far as the eye can reach ! all is your own, too, Sidney.” 

‘ ‘ Alas ! yes, ’ ’ responded Mr. Rainsford. 

“ Why alas ?" inquired Avis. 

“ Because to me there is a loneliness about the scene. 
Once these broad fields were teeming wfith life. The for- 
tunes of war have made it different. Shall we drive on ?’ ’ 

“ Not quite yet ; this view is so lovely ! How like an old 
castle Maplewood looks ! Are there many rooms in it?” 
asked Avis. 

” Twenty,” replied Sidney, 

“ Ah, those grand old halls have often been filled,” said 
Mrs. Beresford with a sigh, remembering the princely hos- 
pitality of former days, 

“ Yes,” responded Sidney. 

“ But now their echoes and their empty tread 
Will sound like voices from the dead.” 

A shadow crossed the speaker’s brow. He whipped up 
his horses and drove on some moments without saying any- 
thing. 

At last the avenue of oaks was entered, and Corisande and 
Fantine increased their speed as they neared the end of their 
journey, and ere long drew up in front of the long colonnade 
at Maplewood. 

“Here we are!” exclaimed Sidney, throwing the reins 
to a man in waiting, and leaping from his seat. 


i3 2 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“Now,” said he, after assisting the ladies from the car- 
riage, “ I must acknowledge to having decoyed you into 
the midst of the party of huntsmen. They will be detained 
here to-night on account of the non-arrival of a comrade 
whom they expected.” 

“Iam sure we can stand it if they can, ’ ’ responded Avis, 
always equal to the occasion, and now quite in her element. 

Just then young Mr. Mandeville appeared, and was de- 
lighted to stand on one side of Avis, although Sidney held 
her hand as she sprang from the landau. 

They were ushered into the hall by the white-haired negro 
porter, who bowed low as he held the door open for the 
visitors to pass through. 

Avis stopped to admire the lofty arch which divided the 
front of the house from the rear, which seemed to disappear 
in a succession of arches lost in a vista suggestive of an 
interminable length of building. 

Three or four trained servants stood about in different 
places, ready to answer the call of the ladies. The inevit- 
able Mammy of Maplewood was present also, and, under 
the name of Aunt Zinka, now stepped forward, with all the 
grace of manner of her former mistress, to ask if the ladies 
would go up stairs and take off their hats. 

Mrs. Beresford, after a word of friendly recognition to 
Aunt Zinka, who had been promoted to the position of Mr. 
Rainsford’s housekeeper, thought it would be best if they 
smoothed their hair and rested a few moments before walk- 
ing about the grounds. So, under Aunt Zinka’s guidance, 
they repaired to the suite of chambers above. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


133 


“ Ah, how like old times it seems!” exclaimed Mrs. Beres- 
ford, throwing herself into the first arm-chair to which she 
came, and quite overcome with a tide of recollections. 
“ This was Mrs. Rainsford’s room.” 

” Yes, m’am” responded Aunt Zinka ; ** and Mass Sidney 
was born in it. * ’ 

There was an atmosphere of elegance and repose about 
everything in that chamber. Some faded flowers were in a 
vase upon the toliet, 

” She put them there,” said Aunt Zinka, seeing that Mrs. 
Beresford had observed them. ‘ ‘ The room is just as she left 
it. Mass Sidney won’t allow a thing to be touched.” 

M Oh, how sad !” exclaimed Mrs. Beresford, burying her 
face in her handkerchief for a moment, ” What a change 
has taken place since I was last here !” 

“ Yes, old master, mistress, and young Mass Edward all 
dead since then,” responded Aunt Zinka. 

“ No wonder Mr. Rainsford has lost his interest in his 
home. How desolate it must be here now ! I am glad a 
sufficient number of the old servants have remained with Mr. 
Rainsford to keep the homestead from looking entirely de- 
serted.” 

“ What, leave Mass Sidney !” exclaimed Aunt Zinka. “ I 
nursed him when he was a baby. We all think the sun rises 
and sets in Mass Sidney. Leave him, indeed ! Not while 
he’s on top of this earth.” 

A soldier’s hat and coat were hanging upon the wall, and 
as Mrs. Beresford’ s tearful glance rested there, Aunt Zinka 
said: “ They are Mass Edward’s. He was the youngest 


134 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


son — the baby. You know he was killed at the battle of 
Seven Pines.” 

“ Didn’t Mrs. Rainsford object to giving him up when he 
went into the army ?’ ’ 

“ Never said a word,” responded Aunt Zinka, shaking her 
head. “ ’Peared like she couldn’t do enough for the soldiers. 
She set all the servants on the plantation to work for 
’em ; she wouldn’t have let a piece of mutton come on her 
table hardly if she’d been starving. Wool was too precious ; 
they wanted all they could get to weave cloth for the * com- 
pany, ’ and mistress even cut up her wedding-dress to make 
a flag for her son when he went to battle, and told him to 
bring it back if it was shot into holes.” 

“ Yes, I remember,” said Mrs. Beresford. 

‘ ‘ Ah, my dear lady, I remember what I would like to for- 
get — how, shortly after old master died, the telegraph 
brought the news that young Mass Edward was shot. 

“ My mistress never shed a tear — she laid upon yon bed 
with her eyes fixed upon the wall for days. The doctor 
said she would die if something wasn’t done. At last they 
thought of Mass Edward’s coat and hat (the suit he wore in 
battle), an’ they brought ’em. See, this is the very place 
where the bullet went through, ’ ’ said Aunt Zinka, lifting up 
the sleeve of the garment. “Yes, they held this up before 
her, and then the tears came, and she was saved — but not 
for long. She never got over his death, and after the surren- 
der her heart just broke j and, to make a long story short, she 
is over there in the grave-yard,” and Aunt Zinka pointed 
in the direction of the hills. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


135 


Just then, as usual, Mr. Beresford commenced rallying his 
forces from the foot of the stairs, and Mrs. Beresford wiped 
her eyes and proposed to Jasper and Avis that they should 
go down and see if the children had come. 

They had arrived, and there was no lack of mirth and 
noise until Aunt Keziah succeeded in convincing them that 
the croquet-ground was far more attractive than the halls of 
Maplewood. 

Avis recognized among the gentlemen visitors some of her 
old admirers. She was soon the queen of a small circle, 
and possessing the two qualities which some think more 
necessary for belleship than any others, viz. : a fondness for 
gentlemen’s society and an inexhaustible fund of small talk, 
her star rose to the zenith of its glory. 

Sidney took Jasper under his especial protection, and was 
not forgetful of the picture he had promised to show her. 

“ These are my friends,” said he, as he opened the door 
of a capacious apartment which seemed to have been devot- 
ed to works of art. “ This is the ‘ Sunset ’ of which I was 
speaking to you. It is the only copy in America,” and Sid- 
ney proposed that they should be seated while they examined 
into the merits of the painting. 

“ Observe that lonely traveller,” he continued. “ I can 
almost feel the darkness approaching as I look at him, not- 
withstanding 

‘ The weary sun hath made a golden set. * ’ ’ 

“ ‘ And by the bright track of his fiery car 
Given token of a goodly day to-morrow,’ ** 

added Jasper, finishing the quotation. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


136 

Sidney gave her an appreciative look. “ Miss St. John,” 
said he, “ I fear you will think me a sentimentalist when I 
tell you that this room is my favorite retreat. ’ ’ 

44 Not at all,” responded Jasper, looking around at the 
family portraits, and particularly struck with a grand looking 
gentleman in front of her. 

“ Ah, that is my father,” said Sidney in response to the 
inquiring look he read in Jasper’s eyes. “ My mother is 
next him.” 

“How strikingly beautiful she must have been 1” ex- 
claimed Jasper involuntarily. 

“ The picture is not at all flattered. At the time it was 
taken it was hardly thought to do the original justice. On 
the other side of my mother, is the portrait of my younger 
brother, Edward.” 

44 One of the heroes of Seven Pines,” said Jasper. 

“Yes; he was but a boy — seventeen, and his mother’s 
darling. It was like grinding up the seed corn to let him 
go into the army, but the South had need of every man 
that could fire a gun, and my mother bade him God- 
speed. That picture was taken shortly before he left 
home.” 

“ What a gentle, lovely expression ! He must have been 
scarcely more than a child,” said Jasper. 

“ Scarcely,” responded Sidney. 44 The night before the 
battle he slept in my tent. I woke and found his arm 
around me, and his head upon my breast.” Sidney paused. 
After a while he added, in a subdued voice, ‘ * A bullet en- 
tered his heart the next day.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 1 37 

Jasper’s eyelids drooped, for a tear was on her lashes and 
she wished to hide it. 

“ I should not revert to the past,” said Sidney, recover- 
ing himself. ‘ ‘ I cannot account for it, but you, of all other 
persons I ever saw, possess the power of drawing out my 
confidence. I sit and muse as I look at these pictures, for 
I have no one to speak to. It is quite refreshing to talk to 
some one who understands me. I loved the old flag, — was 
proud of seeing it flying in foreign ports. I never gave it 
up until the soldiers marched South to coerce a sister 
State. Then I tore the colors from my heart and knew 
no nationality but The South. It is all over now — the 
‘ conquered banner ’ is furled forever — the battle has been 
fought. ’ 9 

J asper ’ s eyes were still swimming in unshed tears. ‘ ‘ Yes, ” 
said she, ‘ ‘ the battle of the South is indeed over, but the 
battle of life is yet to fight, and a brave man will not lay 
down his arms as long as there is a hope of victory.” 

“ True, but I need new arms — hope, courage of a differ- 
ent kind, and ” 

“ Faith,” added Jasper. 

“Yes, faith,” and Sidney was silent for a moment, while 
the laughter of the gay throng without sounded strangely 
as it penetrated the gloomy apartment where Mr. Rainsford 
and Jasper sat. All at once Sidney roused himself and 
said, “It is quite selfish in me to monopolize you in this 
way. Can you forgive me ? I was unconscious of the flight 
of time,” 


138 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“ And I,” said Jasper, “ I do not enjoy a crowd ; but 
even if I did I could not have had half as much pleasure 
in anything as in * ’ 

Jasper had gone farther than she intended. She stopped 
short, and blushed painfully. Sidney read the import of the 
unfinished sentence in her eyes, and raised her hand to his 
lips. “You must put up with me, Jasper,” said he; “I 
can talk to you as I can to no other woman. Are we not 
very near to each other ?” 

Just then Rob came down the hall full tilt upon a stick 
horse, and now, as he stood in the open door, he informed 
Jasper that Tip and himself had been playing a game of 
Tournament, and that he had won, and that Jasper was to be 
crowned queen. 

As Jasper joined the guests, a delicate color mantled her 
cheek, and before she could be jntroduced to all, several 
persons wondered who the graceful and elegant woman 
could be. 

Sidney threw open windows of darkened rooms to let 
stronger light upon the carved woodwork, the massive 
doors and arches, and ancient architecture, and after Avis 
had gratified her curiosity to the utmost, the lord of the 
manor proposed that they should repair to the lawn. 

“ I second the motion,” said Mr. Beresford as he noticed 
the servants moving around with trays on which were all 
the indications of an early tea. 

Scattered about in groups in the open air, all were soon 
accommodated with seats, and the servants, after having 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


*39 


placed small tables before each person, proceeded to offer re- 
freshments. 

“ Ah, this is the old style,” said Mr. Beresford, sipping 
his tea with intense enjoyment. 

” My wife and I have given up handed suppers, ” he added. 
” It seems a long time ago since we could sit down any- 
where under a tree out of doors and have our tea brought to 
us. Between the educational interests and the anxious 
bench it is as much as we can do to get our meals set on 
the table, but Cuffee is a lazy, good-for-nothing, affectionate 
creature, and I like him in spite of his faults.” 

The tea having been disposed of, then was proffered a 
silver bowl of ice-cream, and afterwards waiters of superb 
fruit of every description, the latter all grown at Maplewood. 

But the sun was moving farther down the west, and Mrs. 
Beresford reminded her husband that it was time the chil- 
dren were at home. 

The gentlemen urged delay, but Mr. Beresford remember- 
ed there was no moon, and Mr. Rainsford’s trotters were 
pretty lively ; he therefore requested that Sidney would order 
old gray. 

The carriage was once more at the door, and Sidney asked 
his gentlemen friends to excuse him until he should return 
from Sherwood, whither he intended accompanying the 
ladies ; and having invited Jasper to a seat beside him, he 
took the reins, and Fantine and Corisande obeyed their 
master’s command. 

Mr. Mandeville galloped by the side of Avis, who, though 


140 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


not on horseback, managed to keep up an animated conver- 
sation with him during a greater part of the drive. 

She declared that to have seen Maplewood was some- 
thing to remember as long as she lived — it would be like a 
green spot in her memory. 

After that long-remembered evening, many a time when 
Sidney sat in his quiet library, and tried to beguile the time 
with book or paper, the face of a lovable woman came 
between his eyes and the page on which they rested. 

The face was not beautiful, but its ever-varying expression 
spoke to his soul. To see it once was to feel that it had a 
history — its owner had a heart. 

As for Jasper, the sound of Sidney’s name sent a thrill 
through her being. His horse, his dog — in fact, everything 
in which he held an ownership possessed an interest and a 
charm peculiarly its own. 

She flattered herself that this was only sympathy for a 
lonely man who had honored her with his confidence. She 
freely let out her heart to him ; he was too noble to suspect 
her of anything but the warm friendship he had himself ex- 
acted from her, so Jasper lulled to sleep some few womanly 
fears that presented themselves, and thought herself safe. 


IN DEAD EARNEST 


141 


CHAPTER XX. 

The days were slipping by into the beautiful Indian sum- 
mer peculiar to our climate. 

The mountains were scarcely visible through a golden 
haze. Scarlet and yellow leaves were dropping in the forest, 
and rich and ripe purple grapes festooned the frames of the 
garden walks. 

This delicious season, while it lulls the senses and seems 
to diffuse a repose throughout the soul, is equally as sug- 
gestive of sadness as of joy, for as we walk in the woods, and 
the crisp yellow leaves that have fallen crumble beneath our 
feet, we are reminded that we too must fade as the leaf, and 
we cannot wholly enjoy the splendor of the season, for well 
do we know it is the last farewell of summer. 

The Sherwood children were getting so good that it 
touched Mr. Beresford to the heart. Rob had not run off 
for a month at least. Tip and Tiny had done nothing posi- 
tively out of the way for a long time, unless it was when 
they played a game of hanging , on which occasion they 
took advantage of Mammy’s being absent at her dinner to 
tie a pocket handkerchief around the baby’s neck and sus- 
pend her from the knob of the nursery door. 

Fortunately Polly took it upon herself to inform Aunt 
Kizzy, who rushed to the rescue just as her precious Bessie 
was becoming blue in the face. 


142 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Tip and Tiny were dreadfully distressed to hear that seri- 
ous consequences might have befallen the victim of their 
innocent amusement, and cried as if their little hearts would 
break. 

Yes, the children were getting better ; everybody said so, 
and Mr. Beresford declared jokingly that he felt uneasy 
about them — feared they might not live. They needed re- 
creation, and must have a holiday. The cold weather 
would soon come on, which would put an end to all out- 
door amusements. Mr. Beresford “ believed in fresh air 
the children were too much confined. “ Let them have a 
holiday once in a while, Miss St. John, if you please,” said 
he. 

Jasper had no objection, for she was a strong advocate for 
rewards as well as punishments. 

There was a favorite resort near the confines of the Sher- 
wood estate. It was not too remote for a walk, and yet 
secluded and romantic enough to satisfy the tastes of the 
most fastidious. 

A miniature piece of table-land, still green with velvety 
sod, sloped gently on one side to fields wherein were grazing 
herds of cattle ; on the other it stretched far away to a wild 
and trackless forest. In front the landscape melted away 
in fields that were growing yellow with golden grain, behind 
which rose a chain of dark-blue mountains, while in the 
rear this plateau descended abruptly as if in some convul- 
sion the bosom of the earth had been torn asunder. Nature 
seemed to have tried herself at that sequestered spot, for at 
the bottom of the chasm there roared and foamed in pictur- 


IN DEAD EARNEST 


143 

esque cascades one of those streams which flows to the low- 
lands from some far-off mountain peak. 

“Will Miss St. John go with the children on an excur- 
sion ?’ * asked Mrs. Beresford ? She thought it would be 
ever so pleasant. 

Jasper consented, and then Avis wanted to join the party. 
Mr. Rainsford also asked if he might be one of the number, 
and finally it was decided that everybody should go ; from 
Mrs. Beresford to the baby. It was a pity Mr. B. was 
compelled to be in Chatsworth, for the more the merrier. 
But there was young Mr. Mandeville, another one of 
the worshippers at the shrine of Avis. He would be at 
Sherwood, anyhow, and would be only too glad to join the 
excursionists. So the whole thing was arranged, and the 
children clapped their hands for glee, and Rob stood on his 
head in spite of his curls. 

There was no preparation for such an impromptu affair, 
and all started off to walk except Avis, who Mrs. Beresford 
insisted was not equal to the exertion, so Avis mounted 
upon Zephyr with Sidney Rainsford as her cavalier ; they 
reached the spot a while before the rest of the party. All 
came up in time, however, and now, seated under the 
shade of the oaks which bordered one side of this mini- 
ature plateau, they rested while they drank in the ex- 
quisite scenery which is the striking feature in that portion 
of country which has been called “ The Switzerland of 
America.” 

The children rambled away in search of pebbles and but- 
terflies, the grown folks amused themselves as best they 


144 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


could, but all found time rather harder to kill than they had 
anticipated. 

Finally Avis thought she would like to have a view of the 
village from a certain point, and Mr. Mandeville accom- 
panied her. Mr. Rainsford, half reclining under a tree while 
enjoying a cigar, was soon deep in an article in the day’s 
paper on the prospect of war in Europe, and Mrs. Beres- 
ford beguiled the time with the baby’s stocking which she 
had commenced knitting long before it was born. 

Presently here came the children, tired and panting, and 
wanting bread and butter, and a story. 

“ A story, Miss St. John ; please tell us a story,” they all 
cried. 

‘‘Yes, tell us about the beautiful Princess whose words 
turned to pearls every time she spoke,” said Pink. 

“ Oh, no, please don’t,” said Rob. “ I’m so sick of 
girls ; tell us something about boys.” 

Jasper informed Master Rob “ that girls had to be 
served first, afterwards, if he would be quiet, he also should 
have a story to suit his taste.” So, at some distance from 
the rest, the children formed a circle around her and she 
commenced, ‘‘ Once upon a time, etc.” 

Mammy formed a cradle of some soft moss at the foot of 
a tree ; in this she made a nest for the baby out of its moth- 
er’s red shawl. 

But Mammy must have some water ; she was dying of 
thirst. Polly and herself would go to the spring together ; 
baby wouldn’t wake up until she came back, she was sure. 

The tree under which little Bessie slept was rather near 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


H5 


the edge of the plateau, but not near enough to be danger^ 
ous. “ Besides, baby couldn’t crawl, and even if she could, 
had too much sense to crawl backward in the direction of 
the precipice. ’ ’ So argued Mammy as she went in search 
of water. 

“ Once upon a time," commenced Jasper again. 

“ I wish that cow would stop her noise,” said Rob. “ I 
can’t hear a word. If she don’t mind I’ll throw a stone at 
her, and then she’ll shut up. She bellows and bellows, and 
all for nothing. She can’t get her calf back, that’s certain.” 

It was just as Rob said. In a field adjoining the plateau 
ranged a beautiful young heifer which had lately been sepa- 
rated from her calf. Up and down she roved, seeking for 
egress from her place of confinement. Each moment she be- 
came more and more noisy, and now seemed to consider the 
party on the adjoining plateau responsible for the abduction 
of her offspring. 

Suddenly she spied the red shawl, and with one bound was 
over the fence and making for the baby. 

Mrs. Beresford, who was some distance off, was transfixed 
to the spot with speechless horror ; she could do nothing. 
And now the infuriated animal had her horns under the 
luckless baby, and was lifting it from the ground. One 
moment more and it would be tossed into the air, to fall to 
the earth again with broken bones, or else be gored to death. 

“ Once upon a time,” said Jasper — suddenly she stopped, 
and breaking from her little group of listeners she sprang 
right over the head of Tiny, sped like the wind to the op- 
posite side of the plateau, wrenched the child from its peril- 


146 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


ous position, and darted behind a tree to be out of the 
sight and track of the infuriated enemy. 

Alas ! Jasper had miscalculated the distance which she 
dared venture in her retreat. The earth which projected in 
the rear of the tree was a mere crust, and down, down she 
went with the baby in her arms, rocks and earth crumbling 
under her feet and dropping far, far away into the depths of 
the roaring water beneath. 

Mrs. Beresford came sufficiently to herself to cry out for 
help, and Sidney Rainsford, as he looked up from his paper, 
saw for the first time what was going on. 

He was on the spot in a moment. And now poised, as 
it were, in air, Jasper clung to the stump of an old cedar tree 
with one hand while she held to the baby with the other. 

“ Do not be alarmed,” said Sidney Rainsford, though 
his own voice trembled so that one might have suggested 
that he had best apply the warning to himself. 

His eye took in the situation at a glance. He could, by 
stooping, almost put his hand on Jasper’s head. If she 
could only lay the baby down for a few moments, Rains- 
ford, on his knees, could, by extending both hands, pull Jas- 
per up to where he stood upon the table-land. He explain- 
ed his plan to her. 

‘ ‘ I cannot leave Bessie here for a moment ; she would not 
be safe,” said Jasper. 

“ How unfortunate !” exclaimed Rainsford. 

All at once his eye caught sight of a bridle-path which 
sloped from the edge of the plateau down in the direction 
of the stream at the bottom of the abyss. It was evidently 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


H7 

the path made by some excursionist, for no human being 
could have had any object but that of adventure in travel- 
ing in such a direction. 

“ Do you think you can hold on, Miss St. John ?” 

“Not very long,” responded Jasper. And now Sidney, 
utterly oblivious of the fact that Mrs. Beresford was all this 
time wringing her hands, and Mammy was calling loudly to 
her Bessie, made for the narrow path, which commenced 
some fifty yards from where he stood. 

He found it better and firmer than it looked to be, and 
called out encouragingly to Jasper as he advanced. And 
now, as he approached nearer, he noticed that the baby’s 
white dress was saturated with blood. 

Coming up at last, he took the child from the only arm 
which Jasper could furnish it as a support. 

“ Is she hurt ?” he asked with evident concern. 

“Not at all, the blood is from my arm;” and Sidney 
Rainsford for the first time caught sight of the torn sleeve 
and the deep gash in the arm which had come in contact 
with the sharp-pointed rocks. 

“ Mammy,” called out Sidney, “ are you there ?” 

“Yes, here I is, master,” said Mammy, wiping her eyes 
with the corner of her white apron. 

“ Well, take your baby ;” and, poising himself on tiptoe, 
he said, “ Look out !” and tossed the child over the edge 
of the table-land. 

Mammy was on her knees ready to receive her precious one, 
who evidently regarded the whole affair as a good joke, and 
rolled, laughing and crowing, right to its Mammy’s bosom. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


148 

“ It’s a pity grown people cannot be treated in the same 
way,” said Rainsford, making a desperate attempt at a joke. 
“ Give me your hand !” 

“ There is no use, I cannot move.” 

4 4 What is the matter ?’ ’ 

“I have sprained my ankle,” said Jasper, whose lips 
were now white with the agony of the pain she suffered. 

“ My own suffering Jasper,” said Sidney Rainsford, for- 
getting himself entirely, ‘ ‘ there is but one way — you have 
tried it before — may I take you in my arms ?” 

“Yes! I cannot help myself!” and Jasper reeled and 
was growing blind with agony. 

Sidney stooped and himself put back the dishevelled locks 
out of her eyes. “ Put your arm about my neck.” 

* 1 I must not — it is bleeding. ’ ’ 

“ Nonsense ! You must /” 

“ Now for it !” Sidney stooped still lower, and Jasper did 
as he told her. He paused one moment ere he lifted her 
in his strong arms, and said, “ Do you trust me, Jasper ?” 

“ Implicitly !” 

“ My dear, honest girl ! if we sink in yonder abyss ; 
we sink together. ’ ’ He looked her full in the eyes. 

“ I know it,” said Jasper’. 

# ‘‘If you were to slip from these arms into yon roaring 
torrent, do you think that I would care to live without you ?’ ’ 

Jasper’s heart palpitated so violently that she could find 
no words to give expression to her thoughts, and Sidney, 
noticing her white lips, gathered her nearer to his heart 
and retraced his steps by the path he had come. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


149 


It was a difficult ascent, and several times he paused to 
gather new strength and breath. At last he reached the 
plateau and once more stood upon terra firma. 

‘ ‘ I will place you under the shade of this tree, ’ ' said he, 
putting Jasper down gently and seizing the first thing that 
came in his way for a pillow. 

‘ ‘ And now, ’ ’ said he, tearing into strips a fine white linen 
cambric handkerchief, ‘ ‘ I will dress that arm if you will 
allow me.” 

“ Hadn’t I better do it, Mass Sidney?” said Mammy. 
“It ’pears to me your hand is mighty trimbly." 

* ‘ T rue, I do tremble a little, ’ ’ said Sidney, ‘ ‘ but, nervous 
as I appear to be, I had much of this sort of thing to do in 
the army, and I do not think my hand has forgotten its cun- 
ning yet. Probably my want of composure is owing to the 
fact that this is my first female patient. Men are tough, 
and I do not mind them ; but it is a different thing when 
one plays the surgeon to the tender flesh of a woman.” 

‘ ‘ Is that too tight, ’ ’ said he, tying the bandage. 

“All right; thank you,” said Jasper, “but I must sit 
up, ’ ’ and she begged that the pillow might be used as a prop 
instead of being put under her head. 

By this time Avis came up, and seeing the blood upon 
baby’s dress, shrieked as she rushed forward. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! my darling pet ! what has happened ? Mammy, — 
Mr. Rainsford — what has happened to our precious Bessie ?” 

“ The child is unhurt,” said Sidney Rainsford sternly. 
“ You had best turn your attention to Miss St. John.” 

One quick, reproachful, tear-dimmed glance shot from the 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


150 

dark eyes of Avis, and then she turned to Jasper. Avis 
tore off her gloves as she knelt at Jasper’s side and bathed 
her head in perfume, which Avis never failed to have at 
hand. 

“ That will do,” said Jasper ; ” I feel quite ashamed of 
myself to have created such a stir. ” 

The effort of those few words caused a deadly pallor to 
overspread her face. 

Sidney Rainsford noticed it, and, dropping on one knee, 
fanned her vigorously. The faintness passed, and Jasper 
opened her eyes again. 

‘ ‘ This approaches the dramatic, ’ ’ she said with a slight 
attempt at playfulness. “ Indeed, Mr. Rainsford, I take up 
too much of your time. ’ ’ 

” Not at all ! I shall remain here as long as I can be of 
use.” 

“ Give me the fan, won’t you ?” said Jasper. 

“ You are too weak to wield it.” 

“ Indeed I am not.” 

” Jasper, darling, I believe that is only a ruse to get rid of 
Mr. Rainsford,” said Avis. 

** Do you desire that I should leave you ?” said Sidney, 
springing to his feet. Jasper did not perceive that Avis an- 
swered for her with a nod, and before Jasper herself could 
reply Sidney Rainsford had surrendered the fan, and with 
folded arms walked back to the spot where he had thrown 
down his newspaper. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


151 


CHAPTER XXI. 

When Mr. Rainsford returned to his newspaper his eyes 
were fastened upon it, but not his thoughts. There is no 
telling how long he might have remained thus had not Mrs. 
Beresford approached him begging for a few words of advice. 

“ How shall we get Miss St. John home ?” was the ques- 
tion which disturbed the usual placidity of her thoughts, 
which question finally took form in words as the lady pre- 
sented herself before the gentleman who reclined under the 
shade of a tree. 

“ At your service ;” said Sidney, springing up, “ we shall 
see.” 

“ Do you think you could trust yourself with Prince, 
Miss St. John,” said he, approaching Jasper with some 
slight embarrassment in his manner. 

“ Or Zephyr ?” put in Avis. 

“You must ride Zephyr yourself," said Rainsford with 
decision. 

“ But Zephyr is gentler, and Jasper is not accustomed to 
riding. ’ * 

“ Never mind about that. Are you afraid to ride Prince, 
Miss St. John ?” 

“ Not at all.” 

“ But there is a man’s saddle upon Prince, Mr. Rains- 
ford. Do be merciful,” said Avis. 


152 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


“ True ; I had not thought of that ; I had forgotten.’' 

In fact Sidney Rainsford did not seem to know what he 
was talking of. 

“ Never mind about the saddle ; I can manage very well. 
I have often ridden without one when I was a child, ’ ’ said 
J asper. 

“Have you? Well, I was going to say if you are not 
afraid of my good Prince, I will lift you to his back and lead 
him myself to Sherwood.” 

Jasper accepted with thanks. She was beginning to feel 
that she would trust herself upon anything if she could only 
get back to her own room. 

And now Prince, who was already accoutred, grazing in 
the distance, pricked up his ears at the sound of his mas- 
ter’s whistle and dashed towards him. 

“ I must take a little of the mettle out of you, my old fel- 
low,” said Sidney, springing into the saddle and galloping 
to the spot where hung the martingale on the limb of a tree. 

Mr. Rainsford was soon back again, and dismounted in 
front of Jasper. “ He puts on a few airs with strangers at 
first,” said Sidney, stroking Prince gently, “but one word 
from his master brings him to himself. So gently, my good 
fellow ! Be quiet, Prince ! See, he understands me !” 

“ We had as well go,” said Mrs. Beresford, putting up her 
knitting. “ Miss St. John, if you think you can not stand 
the jolting, I could send the carriage. Some one could wait 
here with you.” 

“ She had best go now,” said Sidney. “ That ankle needs 
attention. It is the left one which is sprained. I can ar- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


153 


range in such a way that the foot can rest securely in the 
stirrup, and as for jolting, Prince shall move so circumspectly 
that he shall not jolt a fly.” 

Settling the matter in this way, Jasper was lifted to the 
saddle, and Sidney, walking in front, with his arm run 
through the reins, took up the line of march for Sherwood. 

“ How like a dream it all seems !” said Avis a few days 
after the occurrence related. ” It hardly seems like it could 
be true ! Do you know, Jasper, dear, the first time I ever 
heard of you was through Professor Reinberg ? I took pri- 
vate lessons of him during my winter in Philadelphia. Well, 
darling, the first thing he told me was about your saving 
some child or other from drowning ; was that so ?’ ’ 

** Yes, it was his daughter — little Bertha Reinberg.” 

“ Indeed ! it is truly remarkable that one person should 
have had two such experiences in the course of a lifetime. 
If we were to read of it in a novel we would not believe it, 
would we?” 

“ Of course not, because we are so accustomed to being 
served with what is only fiction.” 

“ Well, when you are well enough to come downstairs 
again you shall tell us all about it. ’ ’ 

“lam well now,” responded Jasper, “ only this foot will 
not take me where I wish to go. I hope no one thinks I 
keep my room because I am ill.” 

“ Oh ! no, indeed. We all understand how it is. But 
one person thinks you are very obstinate. ’ ’ 

“Who ?” 

“ Sidney Rainsford.” 


154 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


4 4 In what way ?’ ’ 

44 In persisting that the children shall go on with their 
lessons.” 

4 4 I am sorry if Mr. Rainsford thinks I would do anything 
simply to carry a point. I am able to attend to my duties, 
and can do so quite as well when upon this lounge as if I 
were sitting in the school-room. I should not enjoy life at 
all if I were condemned to be idle all day. ’ ’ 

44 Jasper, what would I do if I were in your place ? I 
don’t think I could make my living in any way whatever. 
I haven’t the stamina. If I were deprived of my fortune 
I should be a helpless cumberer of the earth. ’ ’ 

44 No one knows what one can do until tried, ’ ’ said Jasper. 

44 I look at you with astonishment,” continued Avis. 
44 What a hum-drum business teaching must be !” 

44 Not if one is interested.” 

44 That I never could succeed in becoming. I don’t think 
that I am irascible, but I fear I should develop into a fury 
if I undertook the training of small children. I like to 
play with and to pet them, but not to manage them. So it 
is a settled thing that if I were poor I could never teach. 
I couldn’t sew. Since the invention of the sewing-machine 
that doesn’t pay, for a woman may as well starve at once as 
do so by degrees. I couldn’t teach — I couldn’t sew,” con- 
tinued Avis, enumerating on her fingers. 44 I coudn’t wash 
(look at my hands) — I couldn’t cook, for 1 should get over- 
heated and die of consumption. I couldn’t do anything. 
Oh ! yes, I might be a hair-dresser, but I feel sure that my 
occupation would put me in such a bad humor that some- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


155 


body’s blonde or raven tresses would get well pulled. Oh ! 
well, there’s no use in joking about it, as there is no proba- 
bility of my becoming so reduced ; but if my income were 
cut off, I’d best be cut off too. In such an event Avis 
Fro thin gham could do nothing but die. But whither have 
I rambled with my thoughts ? Jasper, put up that intermin- 
able piece of work and talk to me !” 

“ I am listening,” said Jasper, finishing the copy she 
had been setting for Rob, and pushing the table from 
her. 

“ I have heard every word that you have said, have fully 
appreciated your position, have taken it in and digested it, 
if so I may speak.” 

“ Well, darling, I’ll change my subject. Did you receive 
the flowers ?’ ’ 

“ There they are,” said Jasper, pointing to the toilet. 

“ And the books ?” 

“ Have finished reading them. Please return them to the 
owner, and thank him for the flowers as well as the books. 
Say to Mr. Rainsford I have enjoyed both more than I can 
express.” 

“ I have a great mind not to do it,” said Avis, pettishly. 

“Why?” 

“ Because he was cross to me on one occasion. However, 
I don’t bear malice in the least. We are good friends now. 
When do you think you can come downstairs ?’ ’ 

“ As soon as my ankle is stronger. Why do you ask ?” 

“ Oh ! nothing. Some one wished to find out. Nobody 
you care about, though. How fares my ‘ cousin Abel ?’ ” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


156 

“ Don’t ask impertinent questions,” said Jasper, tapping 
her playfully upon her cheek. 

‘ ‘ Well, we shall find out in course of time. ’ * 

‘‘You already know the state of the case,” said Jasper. 
“ Abel is my cousin.” 

“ That is not an insuperable objection,” responded Avis. 

‘‘ Oh ! by no means, you persistent little match-maker !” 
said J asper. ‘ ‘ I have had two very eligible matches arranged 
for me by interested friends. I hardly know which to ac- 
cept.” 

*‘ Who w”as the other, asked Avis ?” 

*‘ Professor Reinberg !” • 

The two girls laughed heartily at this, and here ended their 
conversation. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

‘‘Company, company, company,” grumbled Mammy as 
she beat up the bed in the best room at Sherwood. “ Times 
ain't isms they used to was. There’s Callie gone off some- 
where, and I have to leave the baby to do the work. I 
believe young black folks is going raving abstracted since 
they were set free. What with the time they take up getting 
an edification, and getting religion, you can’t get a lick of 
work out of ’em. If I was in master’s place I’d send ’em 
every one off ; they don’t earn the salt in their bread. 

“ There’s Callie now. She’s been on the anxious bench 


1 


t 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


157 


two weeks or more and ain’t come through yet. When I 
was young, folks ’tended to their business if they were 
a mournin’. 

“ And what is edification ? Old women ^oing to school to 
be stood in a corner because they can’t spell c-o-w . Catch 
me at it ! I haven’t got any of your book-learning, and don’t 
know the mortification table from any other table ; but one 
thing I does know, and that is my place. Yes, and I’ll 
stick to it as sure as my name is Keziah Skipper. 

“ There’s my son Dandy. He’s just like me. He’ll stick 
by master and hang on to his coat-tail and share master’s 
last ten cents. For haven’t I trained Dandy up in the ways 
of righteousness !” 

Thus soliloquizing, Mammy put on the white counterpane, 
closed the shutters, and the room was ready for the next 
visitor destined to occupy it. 

Mammy’s commentary upon the times was a just one. 
Mr. Beresford’s formerly large fortune was greatly impaired 
by the crippled condition of the South. Added to the fact 
that the negroes had been set free, and that many of the able- 
bodied ones had gone off, many of these same workingmen 
had left helpless wives and children upon their former mas- 
ters’ hands to be taken care of. 

There were a few, however, who, like Mammy, took pride 
in the prestige of the Beresford name. Not only that, but 
strong local attachment — a knowledge that the master, 
though reduced himself, would “share his last cent’’ with 
them — kept these servants as fixtures upon the estate where 
most of them were born. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


158 

Yes, times had changed. Out upon the estate lands were 
going to waste that could not be fertilized, fences had gone 
to ruin and could not be replaced, bridges were washed away 
and could not be rebuilt. At the old homestead carpets were 
wearing out and there was no money to replace them. The 
family china was getting broken up, and odd cups and saucers 
were sometimes seen upon the table, and things generally 
were going down at Sherwood. And yet there was an air of 
comfort and repose about everything which gave all who 
visited the place the feeling of being perfectly at hojtie . 

This is the highest art attainable by a host, yet it was 
attained without effort upon Mr. Beresford’s part. 

The cordial grasp of the hand, the kindly glance of the 
eye, if we may so describe it, the graceful manner in which 
the man accepted his reverses, and the easy way in which 
everything seemed to glide on at Sherwood despite the wide- 
spread ruin around, were calculated to make a guest think 
that he would be welcome to spend the rest of his days with 
the Beresfords. 

And where is there an old Virginia home that, no matter 
how full, cannot be made to accommodate more ? 

An alcove here, an unappropriated corner there, can be 
improvised into a chamber, and the hearty gratification of 
the host at the friendly visit will atone for all lack of elegance 
in the accommodation. Sherwood was many miles away 
from a railroad and very hard to get to ; but it was hard 
to get away from on a twofold account. There were always 
charming people there. 

It was a sight to see the family going to the village church. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


159 


Visitors must be provided for, and coaches of the same date 
as the tall bedstead were often called into requisition. 
Then followed the gentlemen on horseback, and the little 
boys too, who were often skilled equestrians as soon as they 
were put in pants. 

At church Rob snugged himself up to Jasper and was learn- 
ing to use his prayer-book. The first Sunday he attached 
himself to her he drew forth a smile when in looking in the 
Psalter for the Psalms for the day he pulled her by the sleeve 
and whispered in her ear that he had “ found the Plaster , 
but couldn’t find the Spasms." He was much puzzled by 
the expression upon Jasper’s face, but forgot all about it 
when she gave him her own book and started him in the ser- 
vice all right. 

But we should not have left Jasper confined to a lounge in 
her room, and with a sprained ankle too. The truth is she 
went downstairs long ago — in fact, much sooner than she 
ought to have done. 

When Mr. Beresford first saw her he could say nothing. 
But the deferential manner — the taking both of her hands in 
his, were abetter tribute than words, and Jasper was satisfied. 

Then, too, when she first went into the library Mr. Rains- 
ford must needs take her crutch, offering his arm as a substi- 
tute until the best chair in the room was wheeled around 
for her benefit. 

And Mr. Rainsford brought over delightful books from 
Maplewood which he volunteered to read, but always man- 
aged that it should be after school hours in order that Jas- 
per could be present. 


i6o 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Ah, those were pleasant days, and Jasper was afraid she 
was getting spoiled by so much kindness, and could hardly 
enjoy the happy hours for fear that they might end. 

Alas ! they did end quite as suddenly as they com- 
menced, for coming down stairs one morning just after she 
had abandoned the use of her crutch, Jasper’s right foot 
caught in a hole in the carpet, and thus threw the whole of 
her weight upon the ankle which had been sprained. 

Then she was a prisoner in her room again, and had to 
resort to the same treatment as at first. 

And now time had glided along imperceptibly, and the 
golden autumn days were gone, and the crackling blaze of 
the cheerful wood-fire was pleasant to behold, especially 
when the November blasts came howling through the gorges 
of the mountains. 

And Jasper still taught the children and looked anxiously 
for the time when she might venture once again from her 
chamber, for one friend at least seemed to have forgotten 
her during this second period of seclusion. There were no 
more books, no more flowers, no more kind messages from 
Mr. Rainsford ; she had evidently faded from his recollec- 
tion. Avis seemed all and all to him now. Riding, walking, 
or reading, they were forever together — and so the days still 
glided by. 

November came and went, and Christmas was not far off, 
and yet Avis Frothingham lingered at Sherwood. What 
could it all mean ? The neighboring gossips were much exer- 
cised upon the subject, and, by a series of winks and words, 
intimated to each other that they had the key to the mystery. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


161 


At last, radiant as a star, Avis floated into Jasper's room 
one day, and, dropping upon one knee beside her, said : 

‘ ‘ Darling, have you heard the news ?’ ’ 

“ No ; what news ?” asked Jasper, not without a flutter- 
ing at her heart. 

“ That I am going away P* 

“Is that all ?” 

“You cruel creature ! the idea of asking me if that is all !” 

‘ 1 I apologize humbly, ’ ’ said J asper. ‘ * I could not express 
surprise because you had remained so much longer in the 
country than usual, and I felt sure that the climate would 
scare you off ere long. When are you going, Avis ?” 

“ To-morrow.” 

“ To-morrow ! Well now I am astonished. Are you sure 
you are going to-morrow ?” 

“ Quite certain ; why ?” 

“ Because if you are going to-morrow I shall expedite 
matters and take the bandage off of my ankle. I had in- 
tended doing so the day after to-morrow at any rate. Yes, 
I must go down and see you off. Who knows but what I 
may throw a slipper after you by way of good luck.” 

“ Indeed you won’t,” said Avis, coloring no little. “ I 
mean you must not on any account. It would be too great 
a risk to run. You know, darling, you went down too soon 
before, and paid dearly for it, did you not?” 

“ Thank you for your consideration, but I have made up 
my mind.” 

‘ ‘ And you will go down ?’ ’ said Avis. 

“ Positively will” rejoined Jasper, not a little amused at 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


162 

the concern expressed in the countenance of Avis Frothing- 
ham. 

“You are a self-willed creature, Jasper.” 

* ‘ That has been said of me before ; I thought I had 
reformed.” 

“ Not quite,” responded Avis with glowing cheeks ; “ but, 
Jasper, why do you look at me with those fascinating eyes 
of yours as if ” 

“ If what?” 

“ Oh, never mind. But you do look at me with such an 
earnest, singular look. I don’t know exactly how to des- 
cribe it.” 

“Do you wish to know the subject of my thoughts?” 
asked Jasper. 

“ Yes — that is, if the subject is agreeable,” said Avis, with 
evident confusion. 

4 ‘ I was thinking how remarkably well you looked — better 
than I ever saw you before.” 

“ Were you really thinking such a pleasant thing about 
me ? Thank you, ever so much. Sidney told me the same 
only this morning. But I must go, darling ; I am to ride 
with Mr. Rainsford this afternoon. ’ ’ 

Avis turned back as she was leaving the room. “ Jasper, 
I like you — indeed I do. I shall miss you in the gay world. ” 

“ I like to be missed,” said Jasper. 

“ Yes,” continued Avis, “ there are none there like you. 
The men, too, who fritter away their time around me — I do 
get so tired of them sometimes. I must keep up, though ; 
Avis Frothingham has a reputation to sustain.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


163 

“ Avis,” responded Jasper, “the devotion of one noble, 
splendid man is worth all the attentions of the rest. Do not 
think the diet of one faithful heart too frugal fare.” There 
was a slight tremor in the voice of the speaker, and she hesi- 
tated as if she felt she had almost gone too far with her 
gratuitous advice. 

“ Jasper, I must fly from you. If I do not, there is no 
telling what I shall say or do. There’s Sidney now, and I 
must run and put on my riding-habit. Good-bye, dear,” 
and kissing her hand, Avis suddenly disappeared through 
the open door. 

Dandy had lighted the lamps and just finished placing a 
huge bunch of flowers in the middle of the tea-table, when 
the ponderous brass knocker resounded through the house 
so loudly that it caused him nearly to drop the plate of 
muffins which he had just taken up. 

“ Is Miss St. John in ?” asked the person at the door, 
and scarcely waiting for a reply, he pushed by the servant 
and entered the sitting-room unasked. 

“ Seems to be in a hurry,” said Dandy to himself. 
“ ’Pears like he thinks it’s as much his house as anybody 
else’s. I think he might a told his name, ” and Dandy went 
in search of Callie for the purpose of informing her that 
“ somebody wanted to see Miss St. John.” 

“To see me !” exclaimed Jasper. “ I can not go down 
this evening!” But Callie was out of hearing, and there 
was no one to take the message. 

Jasper pondered the matter over in her mind for a mo- 
ment. She intended leaving her room in the morning. A 


164 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


few hours could make no difference. Yes, “ she would see 
the visitor. ’ ’ Some slight change must be made in her toi- 
let, however. The handsome black silk, which had been her 
mother’s, but which, remodelled, well became Jasper’s figure, 
was taken from the wardrobe. “ It is almost too dressy, ’ ’ 
said Jasper as she looked over her shoulder at the rich folds 
that floated off in a train behind her. But it was on now, and 
dressing was quite troublesome of late. Yes, “ she would 
wear it. ” The dainty lace collar, fastened at her throat with 
a knot of rose-colored ribbon, lent a softness to an expression 
already refined and interesting, and as Jasper surveyed her- 
self in the old-fashioned mirror, she was quite well satisfied 
with the suitability of her costume. 

Jasper took longer to dress than usual, and the gentleman 
downstairs was becoming quite impatient, as he showed by 
striding up and down the room. Finally he stood with 
folded arms in front of one of the family portraits. The 
parlor-door was open, and Jasper was almost up to where 
the stranger was standing before he saw her, for she was 
behind him, and he was evidently absorbed in the study of 
the pictures. He did not even hear the voice of Avis 
Frothingham as she came up the steps of the verandah talk- 
ing to Sidney Rainsford, saying she “ had never had so 
charming a ride in all her life.” 

But suddenly the visitor in the parlor finished his criticism 
of Mr. Beresford’s ancestor in the ruffled shirt-bosom. 
Suddenly something caused the stranger to turn, and he 
beheld Jasper — so pale, so quiet, so almost beautiful, and 
leaning upon her crutch! 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


165 


“ Jasper !” said he, “ Jasper, you have been ill !” 

Jasper was too much astonished to reply, and Abel Grant- 
land, ere she could say him nay, strained his cousin to his 
bosom in one long, fond embrace, and pressed a kiss upon 
her lips. 

Just then Avis and Mr. Rainsford stood in the parlor-door. 
They saw it all, and Avis, with a low, musical laugh, whis- 
pered to her escort, “We are de trop ; shall we go to the 
sitting-room ?’ ’ 

“ By alb means,” replied Mr. Rainsford, endeavoring to 
appear indifferent in spite of the dark frown upon his brow, 
and only too glad to get away without being observed by the 
inmates of the room. 

“ What on earth is the matter with everybody?” grumbled 
Dandy. “ Nobody wants any tea ; the hot muffins has 
gotten cold, and when I asked the strange gentleman to 
walk in to supper, he looked more like he could have eaten 
me than the muffins. White folks is too curious. There’s 
mistress — she’s got a headache, and master ain’t here ; but 
why can’t t’other folks eat ? Well, I’ll just set the tea 
things away, because I can’t spend my time standing up here 
all night.” 

Dandy wondered if the gentleman in the parlor who came to 
see Miss St. John was going to spend the night at Sherwood. 

Whereupon Callie informed him not. She had overheard 
the gentleman tell Tom “ not to put up his horse : he was 
going back to Chatsworth.” 

“ Whoever he is, he means business,” said Dandy, confi- 
dentially. “ He ain’t no Southern gentleman either.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


1 66 


* ‘ What does you know about it ?’ ’ said Callie, contemptu- 
ously. 

“I knows what I knows ; ’cause a Southern gentleman 
never rides behind a horse when he can travel on one. 
Don’t you reckon if he was one of our gentlemen he would 
just a galloped over here like Mr. Rainsford, or Mr. Man- 
deville, or any of the rest. ’ ’ 

“ Much you knows ’bout it,” said Callie, helping herself 
to the supper which no one else seemed to relish. 

“ I haven’t been livin’ in the Sherwood family all my life 
for nothin’. I knows one gentleman from ’tother : I knows 
who is who,” persisted Dandy, who was proud of his ante- 
cedents, and intended some reflection upon California, who 
was, comparatively speaking, anew servant, and had rejected 
his addresses in the bargain. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

There was an unusual stir about the Sherwood mansion the 
following morning. Mammy had roused up her fellow-ser- 
vants before day. Miss Frothingham would not be in time 
for the Fairy Belle unless she could reach Chatsworth by six 
o’clock a.m. It was a dreadful hour for visitors to leave, 
but Mr. Beresford was hospitable enough not only to be in 
place himself, but to have all the children wakened to speed 
the parting guest. 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


167 

It had been Mr. Beresford’s intention to accompany Avis 
to Ashwood Depot himself, but a younger and more agree- 
able escort had volunteered, and of course Mr. Beresford 
resigned. 

On that chill November morning a fire blazed in the 
immense fireplace in the sitting-room, and so comfortable 
was everything within doors that it was hard to realize that 
snowflakes were flying about in the air, and the far-off Blue 
Ridge and Alleghany Mountains were capped with white. 
Breakfast was ready, and all were in place to enjoy it except 
Avis. Soon she also joined the family, looking rather pale, 
but more beautiful than usual in her winter wraps and furs, 
and the dark velvet hat whose only trimming was the graceful 
plume which dropped across the crown and set off to ad- 
vantage her golden braids of hair. 

“You bad child !” she exclaimed as she saw Jasper. 

“ I take Miss St. John’s part ; she has been very good and 
patient all these weeks,” said Mr. Beresford. “ I am heartily 
glad to have her with us again. We missed her, did we not, 
my dear ?’ ’ 

Mrs. Beresford bore testimony to the truth of the asser- 
tion, and Jasper made acknowledgment of her gratification. 

The breakfast was hurried through, for Dandy and Tom 
and various others were dragging trunks through the hall, 
and there was such an atmosphere of unrest about the house 
that it seemed to take away everybody’s appetite. 

Finally the motion was made to leave the table, and as 
Jasper did so she almost came in collision with Mr. Rains- 
ford in the hall. Her astonishment at seeing him at Sher- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


1 68 

wood at such an early hour can be better imagined than de- 
scribed. 

“Mr. Rainsford ! — I am glad — ” Jasper’s words were 
frozen upon her lips. 

“ Good morning, Miss St. John,’’ said Sidney Rainsford 
coldly. 

Was this the man whose voice had assumed a tenderer 
and softer intonation whenever he addressed her ? Had he 
not carried her in his arms and called her “Jasper!” 
and there, within sound of the roaring torrent which 
foamed below them, had he not spoken words too sacred 
for any ear but her own ! 

‘ * I had not expected to meet you at such an early hour, ’ ’ 
said Jasper, recovering herself and withdrawing her hand 
which had been partly extended. 

“I am not surprised,” responded Mr. Rainsford still 
coldly but with great deference. “ I accompany Avis to 
Oakwood — indeed, I think I shall go all the way to the city 
with her. She is too fragile to travel alone.” 

He bowed politely, and passed on to give some directions 
to Dandy about the trunks. 

In front of Sherwood house stood the family coach, and 
behind the coach a baggage wagon, and from Jasper’s 
quiet nook in the library she saw that all the preparations 
for the journey were completed. She heard the good-bye 
of Avis to each member of the family, and an occasional 
“ Thank’e m’am ” as Avis dropped something into the 
hand of each servant. 

“ Good-bye, my precious baby ; don’t forget aunt Avis. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


169 

Good-bye, Rob ; Avis will send the velocipede Christmas. 
Good-bye, Tip and Tiny ; if you will not kindle any more 
bonfires you shall find some Roman candles on the Christ- 
mas tree. Good-bye, darlings.” She kissed Mr. and Mrs. 
Beresford. 

“ But where is Jasper ?” 

“I am here,” said Jasper, with an unnatural calmness as 
she came from her hiding-place. 

4 * Good-bye, darling, ’ ’ said Avis, giving her a warm em- 
brace just as Sidney Rainsford came up. ‘ ‘ Good-bye, dear 
— it is all turning out just as I said it would, isn’t it, Mr. 
Rainsford ?” 

“Didn’t we see the meeting last evening? Yes, Mr. 
Rainsford seemed petrified with astonishment. But wo- 
men have an intuition in such matters, and as soon as I whis- 
pered * de trop, ’ my companion came to his senses and we 
accomplished a rapid retreat.” 

All this was uttered in a hurried, excited manner, which 
left no room for reply on Jasper’s part. She stood as one 
in a trance. She felt that she was embraced, but her own 
lips refused to make response ; she knew that Mr. Rains- 
ford had coldly touched her hand and said “ Farewell,” and 
still she was dumb. She saw him draw a mantle closer 
around the shoulders of Avis ; she heard him twice call her 
Avis ; she noted that he watched her as if he feared one 
breath of November’s wintry wind might deal rudely with 
her. She heard Avis say * ‘ That will do, darling, ” as he 
offered her his own cloak ; then saw the pretty blush upon 
her cheek as she said, “ Excuse me, I thought I was speak- 


170 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


ing to Jasper.” She saw all this. And now the drivers 
cracked their whips, Avis, buried in furs in a corner of the 
carriage, kissed her hand, Mr. Rainsford touched his hat — 
and they were gone. 

“ Mamma, mamma, come to Miss St. John,” said Tiny, 
“ she is dying !” 

Mrs. Beresford almost threw Bessie into the nurse’s arms. 

‘ ‘ Where, my dear ?’ ’ 

" In the library !” 

Tiny had found her way into that room sure enough, and 
seeing Jasper upon the lounge, wanted to know if she ” wasn’t 
so sorry aunt Avis and Mr. Rainsford had gone away ?” 

Question after question of the same kind having been asked 
and unanswered, the child crept softly to Jasper, touched 
her forehead — it was cold. Looked into her eyes — they were 
staring blankly at the wall in front of her. Then suddenly 
the death-like pallor of the face she was peering into 
seemed to strike terror into the heart of Tiny, and with a 
cry of real grief she burst from the room. 

If there was anything on earth that could make Jasper 
forget her own sorrow, it was that of other people. The 
child’s scream roused her instantly, and when Mrs. Beres- 
ford reached the room Jasper was sitting bolt upright upon 
the lounge. 

“ Tiny, my dear, why did you frighten me so !” exclaimed 
her mother. 

Tiny rushed to Jasper and threw her arms around her. 

** I didn’t tell a story, did I, Miss St. John ? I haven’t 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


171 

made up a story since you told us about Ananias and Sap- 
phira. Mamma, she was dead, weren’t you, Miss St. 
John?” 

” I suppose you thought so, Tiny, but the dead do not 
come to life so easily. I recollect nothing except that 
when I first leaned back upon the pillow a numbness seemed 
to take possession of me, which I found it impossible to shake 
off until I heard a cry of distress. ’ ’ 

“ I understand how that is,” said Mrs. Beresford. “ I 
have suffered so much from ill health that I know every pain 
and ache to which mortals are liable. I can readily ac- 
count for the symptoms you describe. Mr. Beresford and 
myself came to the conclusion some time ago that you tax 
yourself entirely too much with the children. Give them a 
holiday ; you are not well enough now to be troubled with 
them. ’ ’ 

“ But I am,” said Jasper earnestly. “ Indeed, they form 
my chief interest in life,” and she caught Mrs. Beresford’s 
hand, which lay upon her own, and pressed it fervently. 

Mrs. Beresford was too yielding to contend with such a 
nature as Jasper’s. After a vain attempt at persuasion the 
point was yielded by Mrs. B. quite gracefully, who hoped 
that Miss St. John would never feel herself obliged to teach 
when she was not well. 


172 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

When the carriage containing Avis Frothingham and 
Sidney Rainsford drove from Mr. Beresford’s door, Jasper 
felt that a scene in the drama of her life was ended, the 
curtain fallen, and one of th z dramatis persona gone forever. 
She pressed one hand to her aching heart and left the win- 
dow from which she had been watching the departure of the 
travellers. How far away seemed the last few months into 
which a whole lifetime of enjoyment had been crowded ! 
But the future — how dark — who could brave it ! 

** Yes, he belongs to her now. I observed his tender 
manner ; I saw him look proudly on her beauty. Who was 
I, that I dared cherish a few words spoken in the heat of 
excitement out of intense pity ! It would be best if this 
heart of mine were adamant. ” And thus communing with 
herself, Jasper seemed to have attained her wish and turned 
to stone when Tiny found her in the library. 

“ / love you, ” said the little child, and the arms tightened 
around Jasper’s neck. “ I loves you sure enough,” said 
Tiny again. Still no response. Jasper heard as one in a 
trance. She could give no sign of approval or return. It 
seemed that she must hereafter be passive, an object only, 
not an actor in life’s drama. 

“ I love you !” said Tiny again and again. Then it was 


IN DEAD EARNEST. I 73 

that the child seemed stricken with terror and rushed from 
the room in search of her mother. 

Abel’s visit was soon over. He could not win the heart he 
had trampled upon for so many years. It could not be 
bought by all his promises of freedom from toil, nor by the 
offer of comparative wealth ; and he returned to the North 
feeling that he had lost his only chance of earthly happiness. 

Sherwood was rather quiet during the winter season. The 
roads were generally impassable which led to the nearest 
depot, and the inmates of the different country houses were 
dependent upon each other for society. Occasional visitors 
for a day or night dropped in, but these visitors were of a 
different stamp from the gay summer friends who, to avoid 
the heated term in the city, took wing for the far-off blue 
mountains. Yes, quiet reigned supreme at Sherwood, ex- 
cept when some college mate of Mr. Beresford’s braved both 
weather and roads and came to enjoy a talk about old times. 
Then would the huge logs be piled on almost to the top of 
the tall brass and-irons. The pipes would be filled, and 
wreathed in smoke the two friends would review the past, 
refreshing each other’s memory as to many an anecdote of 
early days, though the hero had moved away to the far 
West, or slept the last sleep in the family burying-ground. 

The chief object of interest in the country during the 
winter was the mail. Mr. Beresford could not live without 
his mail. The world might turn upside-down and he would 
never find it out if he did not get his mail ; so rain, hail, or 
shine, Tom went to Chatsworth on horseback every morning 
with the mail-bag, though he was often rewarded for his 


174 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


pains by only bringing back a postal or two and the inevit- 
able paper which had been taken in the family before Mr. 
Beresford was born. 

Mr. Rainsford had been heard from. “ Avis made the 
trip without fatigue — would go to New York soon, and from 
there to Europe — and, — bless my soul !” said Mr. Beres- 
ford, reading out bits of news from the letter, “ Rainsford 
has sold Maplewood and is going with her. Of course 
matters must be settled between them, but why sell his 
place ! Yes, sold Maplewood to an Englishman ! 

“ How can we expect there to be life in the old land yet 
if the bone and sinew are taken out ! Young men should 
not desert the State.” Whereupon Mr. Beresford cried “ for 
shame !” and forthwith wrote Sidney a letter giving him a 
piece of his mind on the subject ; but Sidney Rainsford was 
inexorable, and Maplewood was sold. 

Christmas was very near. Letters poured in now from Avis. 
Presents came also, to be hidden away until the great day, 
when they would appear on the Christmas-tree. 

“ Just like Avis,” said Mrs. Beresford as she unfolded one 
package after another. “ Dear, generous child ; she throws 
away money. See, Miss St. John, what an elegant set of furs 
she sends you. She says Mr. Rainsford selected them ; he 
is a fine judge you know. Yes, and here is the velocipede — 
and here are the Roman candles. And now we must be 
thinking of the plum-pudding, and the fruit-cake and jelly, 
and the big turkey for Christmas day.” 

In reply to this last remark Callie assured her mistress that 
the turkey was as fat as it could be to walk, “ and I knows a 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


l 75 


fat turkey when X sees it,” added Callie. “ My mother used 
to be hired to Mr. Greenway, and raised dozens of turkeys for 
him every year. She always fed ’em high too. If enough 
wasn’t given out for ’em she would have it ; why, my mother 
would steal for her turkeys just the same as she would for 
herself.” Thus Callie, in endeavoring to prove her mother’s 
zeal in the department assigned her on the farm where she 
was hired, unwittingly bore testimony to her habitual dis- 
honesty. And yet, with all their faults, the five millions of 
slaves in the South during the war won the respect and 
gratitude of their owners. There has never been in the 
history of the world any instance of such devotion as these 
slaves showed to the wives and children of their masters 
during the Civil War. To quote the language of a celebrated 
divine, “ Slavery brought its evils to master as well as 
slave, but God meant it for good or it would never have 
existed. Where slavery had no other end but selfishness 
it was a curse to master as well as to slave ; but in many 
instances the relation was sanctified by that Christian love 
which taught the master to rule remembering that he also 
had a Master in heaven.” 

“ Knowing that the war largely influenced their condition 
as slaves, that the failure of their own masters would be the 
guarantee of their freedom, that the women and children 
were, through the issues of war, left at home without their 
natural protectors, there is yet left not one single act of vio- 
lence, not one deed of blood to record against them. This 
fact alone would speak volumes for both master and slave, 
and answer all possible cavils as to any necessary antagonism 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


176 

of races. Yes, reared in the same household, these Africans 
have been the foster-mothers and nurses to white children, 
and often showed more devotion to the latter than to their 
own kin.” 

Christmas was coming, and Mr. Beresford said something 
must be done to show an appreciation of the season. He 
would invite a few friends from the neighborhood and one 
or two from Richmond. “ By the by,” said he, “ there is 
Faircastle. He’s nothing of a sportsman, it is true, but I 
think he is just the man to enjoy a quiet time in the country. 
Immersed in business, he will never come except during a 
holiday, and, strange to say, as often as we have met, he has 
never been entertained at Sherwood. Wife, we will invite 
him. ’ ’ So the invitation was extended in a few days and ac- 
cepted in the same length of time, and the Sherwood children 
counted the hours impatiently ere the arrival of Santa Claus, 
while their mouths fairly watered at the sight of the mince- 
pies, cheese-cakes, and other good things that were accumu- 
lating in the pantry. 

Mammy exerted herself to keep Callie up to her business, 
and to see that the bed-rooms were neat and comfortable. 

“ Faircastle ! Faircastle !” said Mammy, pricking up her 
ears, ‘‘'I’ve heard that name before. I’ve heard of Fair- 
castle, and I’ve heard of Worthington, and I’ve heard of 
Marchmont. I knows what I knows. I knows about the 
great Worthington lawsuit, but I wonder if it is the same set 
of Faircastles. Well, I’ll find out as sure as my name is 
Keziah Skipper, and if he is, he gets what no Marchmont 
will ever have, that’s certain.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


I 77 


Mrs. Beresford was too much accustomed to Mammy’s 
rambling way of talking to pay much attention to her reminis- 
cences of old times, and left her to the enjoyment of the so- 
liloquy which was sure to follow any recollection of the past. 

Rumors reached the Beresfords that Avis was having a 
glorious time in New York, and Avis wrote of Mr. Tracey 
(the father of Mrs. Beresford) that he was the same dear 
good old guardian. 

“ I have but one fault on earth to find with him,” wrote 
Avis, ‘ * and that is when he troubles me with business. He 
has given that up at last, however ; he has come to the con- 
clusion that I am a spoilt child and won’t be bothered with 
such matters. So dear Mr. Tracey invests my money as 
he pleases, and all I ask of him is that he will furnish me as 
much as I can spend while abroad, and keep it a secret from 
me if he loses all the rest.” 

Avis wound up her letter with “oceans of love to every- 
body, ’ ’ and with ‘ ‘ how she would like to have a peep at 
dear old Sherwood during the holidays !” etc. 

Christmas morning came, and the children were up with the 
dawn, and soon might be heard every variety of sound which 
a toy menagerie was capable of producing ; and Rob singed 
his own eyebrows and frightened Mammy out of her wits 
with the fire-crackers found in his stocking, and Tip swal- 
lowed a marble nearly as big as his fist, and had to be beaten 
in the back until it came up again, and Tiny dissected the toy 
dogs and dolls to see what they were made of, and the baby 
cried with a fit of the colic, having been surreptitiously fed 
upon an overdose of plum-cake by Polly, and everything 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


I 7 8 

went on just as one might suppose it would go on at Sher- 
wood. 

The guests came and enjoyed the fine old Virginia hams, 
the oysters sent up for the occasion from Norfolk, and, in 
fact, everybody showed an appreciation of the good fare 
which had been so invitingly prepared. 

Mr. Faircastle proved to be a pleasant man, but rather 
stiff — a real old bachelor. Jasper often caught the keen 
brown eyes of this elderly attorney fastened upon her. “ He 
knew her to be a St. John at the first glance. When he was 
a boy he remembered seeing her father once at his own 
father’s house but after these few remarks the conversa- 
tion fell flat, and Mr. Faircastle sipped his wine and seemed 
to be thinking of something far away from Sherwood. 

But all pleasant things must come to an end, and Christ- 
mas as well as any other time, and Mr. Beresford’s friends 
all returned to their homes with the exception of Mr. Fair- 
castle. He was heartily welcome, however. Everybody was 
at Sherwood, and a few days developed the gentleman’s 
motive for prolonging his stay. 

He was waiting for papers — business papers which he 
wished to consult while at Sherwood. They came safely to 
hand, and Mr. Faircastle was heard to remark while exam- 
ining them, ‘ ‘ A remarkable circumstance ! a very remark- 
able circumstance !” 

The family had retired with the exception of Mr. Beresford 
and his friend, when Mr. Faircastle, knocking the ashes from 
his pipe, remarked that, “ If not too late, he would like to 
discuss a little matter with Miss St. John.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


l 79 


“Certainly; Mr. Beresford would see that she was in- 
formed. He was rather under the impression that she was 
in the habit of burning the midnight lamp. At any rate he 
would inquire,” and so saying, Mr. Beresford left the room, 
feeling that the interview should be private. 

Jasper received the message and obeyed the summons, but 
wondered no little as she did so what could have procured 
her the honor of an interview with a man of Mr. Faircastle’s 
business habits at so late an hour of the night. 

That gentleman made many apologies as Jasper entered 
the room. Said that urgent business would call him from 
Sherwood on the following day, and he wished to have a 
conversation with her before leaving. He brought his chair 
quite near her own, and commenced in a mysterious voice. 

“ I have here an article of apparently little value, which 
article has come into my possession since I entered this 
house.” He took from his pocket an old-fashioned snuff- 
box. 

* ‘ This, ’ ’ said he, * ‘ has been kept for years by a servant 
in the employment of Mr. Beresford, that servant being 
Keziah Skipper.” 

“ What on earth have I to do with that,” thought Jasper. 

“ The said snuff-box was bequeathed to Keziah by her 
mother, Susan Skipper, who was also the foster-mother of 
young Marchmont Worthington. You are, I suppose 
(although you have been absent from Virginia since you 
were a very small child), sufficiently acquainted with the 
family history to be aware of the fact that your great uncle, 
Governor Worthington, and his son Marchmont were victims 


i8o 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


of the terrible conflagration of the theatre at Richmond in 
the year 1811, when at least a hundred and twenty persons 
were either crushed or burned to death.’ ’ 

Jasper had often heard so. 

“ There was much litigation as to which survived the 
longest, many believing the testimony of a person who 
swore to having seen the boy outside of the building after all 
within must have perished. Finally the son was declared 
to have survived by a few moments, and such being the 
case, he became heir to the property, but not until the 
matter had been stoutly contested by Governor Worthing- 
ton’s only brother Roscoe, who was also your great-grand- 
father. 

Jasper had heard the same. 

“ The case is quite clear, is it not ?” said Mr. Faircastle, 
endeavoring to discard all law terms and adapt his phrase- 
ology to the capacity of his young listener. 

“ Quite so,” responded Jasper. 

“ Now, as the boy’s mother was dead, his grandmother on 
his mother’s side inherited the property.” 

“Sol have heard. ’ ’ 

“ Whereas, but for those few moments which it was conjec- 
tured the boy lived after his father had perished, the prop- 
erty would have gone to Roscoe Worthington.” 

Jasper had heard that also. 

“But, as I have said,” continued Mr. Faircastle, “the 
grandmother, Mrs. Marchmont, gained the case, and, dying 
not long afterwards, left her fortune to a sister residing 
abroad. ’ ’ 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


1 8 1 


Jasper had never heard that, or if she had, it had escaped 
her memory, as from her early youth she had been cut off 
from all who might have reminded her of it. 

“ But this snuff-box, it seems, was thrown from a window 
of the theatre while the building was in flames and all possi- 
bility of escape without assistance was cut off. Yes, this 
little box,” continued Mr. Faircastle, ” if produced at the 
right time, would have saved a world of trouble, and would 
have done what the finest legal talent in Virginia could not 
accomplish — namely, turned over Governor Worthington’s 
property to the rightful owner — namely, Roscoe Worthing- 
ton ; for listen,” said Mr. Faircastle as he drew still nearer 
the lamp and proceeded to unfold a scrap of paper which he 
had taken from the snuff-box. “ First, however, let us 
imagine the situation of Governor Worthington on that fear- 
ful night. Hundreds of terror-stricken human beings were 
rushing against and over one another towards the doors ; 
alas ! these doors opened upon the inside, and the frantic 
crowd was pushed against them, thus preventing all possi- 
bility of escape in that way. Some were trampled to death, 
some killed by falling timbers, and many were suffocated. 
A few scrambled to the windows, threw them open, and, 
though enveloped in flames, leaped to the ground. 

” It is very evident that Governor Worthington had suc- 
ceeded in reaching a place of comparative safety at one of 
the windows, although his son had already been killed. A 
man of great coolness and decision of character, he bided 
his time. It is very evident also that Governor Worthing- 
ton, who was a fleshy man, felt that his only hope was in 


i8a 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


securing some assistance. Let us imagine him, then, stand- 
ing guard on that fearful night over the dead body of his 
son. The groans and shrieks of the dying are hushed, the 
lurid flames have licked the ceiling, and already the rafters 
have commenced falling. 

“ There is still one chance left. He takes from his pocket 
a portion of a letter, and by the light of that fearful glare 
writes these words in pencil : 

“ ‘ Send help — to farthest east window — I watch beside 
my dead son. ‘ Wallace Worthington.’ 

“ Enclosing this bit of paper in the snuff-box he was in the 
habit of carrying, he throws it from the window, trusting to 
the chance of its being picked up. Alas ! those words were 
the last ever written by Governor Worthington, and it is prob- 
able that he was ushered into eternity the next moment. 

“ Now to the point,” said Mr. Faircastle, returning the 
paper to the snuff-box where it had been concealed for half 
a century. ‘ ‘ This proves what was contested for so many 
years — proves that Governor Worthington outlived his son, 
proves that Roscoe Worthington was the lawful heir, and 
proves beyond doubt that you, who are the sole living de- 
scendant of Roscoe Worthington, have a right to all that 
property which should have descended to him, but which 
fell to Mrs. Marchmont and was bequeathed by her to her 
sister. A remarkable coincidence! a truly wonderful circum- 
stance !” 

Jasper was too much astonished to reply, so much good 
fortune seemed to have deprived her of the use of her tongue. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


183 

“ Now, my dear young lady, you are an orphan. For gen- 
erations back there has been an intimacy between the Fair- 
castles and Worthingtons ’’and Mr. Faircastle hesi- 

tated a while. ‘ ‘ I volunteer my services, and will take 
pleasure in resorting to the necessary steps towards restor- 
ing you to your rights.” 

Jasper accepted this offer with thanks, feeling, neverthe- 
less, that it must all surely be a dream. 

And now Mr. Faircastle drew his chair still closer, and 
unfolded many a musty paper, examining the handwriting, 
which proved to be identical with that upon the precious 
scrap he hoarded. Then reviewing the history of the family 
from the time the founder of it came to Virginia from Eng- 
land during the reign of George the First, he beguiled the 
hours far into the night, and was only aroused to a con- 
sciousness of that fact by the tall clock in an alcove some- 
where in the hall. 

“ Bless my soul!” exclaimed Mr. Faircastle, “ I had no 
idea it was so late. I le.gve at an early hour, and must to 
bed. Good-night, Miss St. John.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Mammy was right after all. Jasper had been diposed to 
treat the affair as an old woman’s tale, and Mammy’s 
account of the suit had gone into one ear and out of the 
other ; yet there was much truth in the old negro woman’s 


184 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


gossip, and there was a value belonging to the long-conceal- 
ed snuff-box of which Mammy herself had not the slightest 
conception ; and the scrap of paper might as well have been 
a blank as far as she was concerned, for not knowing how 
to read, she had never attempted to decipher the writing 
upon it. 

Her idea of the worth of the heirloom lay in its intrinsic 
value. She jealously guarded her treasure from mortal gaze 
because she had promised her mother on her death-bed to 
do so. 

She had also promised that the snuff-box should be kept 
for a Faircastle, and she had held on to it all these years 
until she had met with a Faircastle, and if she had died 
before doing so, she had intended to have had that old relic 
buried in the coffin with herself. 

It must be said, however, that Mammy had imbibed her 
mother’s views on the subject, and evidently retained the 
snuff-box more to spite the Marchmonts than for any 
other reason. They had grasped every cent of a property to 
which they had no right; they should not possess this last 
treasure, this silver toy, lined with gold, with the name of 
Wallace Worthington engraved upon the lid. 

It was remarkable how that same toy was found. The 
day after the conflagration at the theatre in 1811, Susan 
Skipper, who was the foster-mother of young Marchmont 
Worthington, joined the crowd of persons who, with a mor- 
bid curiosity, hung around the scene of the disaster. There 
seemed to be a fascination about the spot. She lingered 
there for some time. Suddenly her eye caught sight of the 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


185 

snuff-box ; she Knew it in a moment ; it was her master’s ; 
and rescuing it from the pile of rubbish in which it lay, she 
hid it in her bosom and left the place. 

As to Mammy’s knowledge of the lawsuit, she had ac- 
quired it pretty much as a parrot would do. She picked up 
law terms when she was a girl while waiting at her master’s 
table, and, proud of her acquirements, she was always glad 
of an opportunity of making a display of her knowledge, for 
by doing so she had gained a reputation for great wisdom 
among people of her own color. 

When she disclosed the fact to Jasper that one of the 
heirs was not far off, she alluded to a descendant of the 
Marchmonts. 

Mammy knew that Jasper was related to the Worthing- 
tons, but the old woman did not know in what way, had 
not traced up the line of descent— in fact, to use her own 
words, ** she often forgot more than she knew.” 

Mr. Faircastle was naturally reticent. He said nothing 
to any one of the great discovery he had made. He prob- 
ably preferred maturing his plans, hunting up the Marchmont 
heir, and making sure of swooping down upon his devoted 
head with Jasper’s claim for the property. On his return 
to the city he went to work like a beaver. Whole volumes of 
family history were unearthed, letters were taken down from 
dusty pigeon-holes, and even the missing portion of the 
letter was found from which had been torn the scrap on 
which those last words were written. 

Yes, Mr. Faircastle accumulated undeniable facts, proof 
that could not be set aside, that Roscoe Worthington had 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


1 86 

been kept out of his rights, and the busy little lawyer, hav- 
ing made ready for the onslaught, put in the claim. 

It came like a thunderbolt upon a certain lawyer who had 
held the property in charge, and who had considered the 
great Worthington lawsuit a thing of the past — never to be 
raked up again. 

Mr. Faircastle had been long enough in Mr. Beresford’s 
family to read and appreciate the character of Jasper St. 
John, and the favorable opinion entertained of her was 
fostered by the unqualified praise bestowed upon Jasper by 
Mr. Faircastle’s friend. Hence it is not surprising that 
the sedate lawyer felt an enthuisiasm in the cause of his 
young client, which enthusiasm bade fair to sweep away 
every obstacle to his success. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

Everything had subsided into its usual calm and quiet 
routine at Sherwood. The children’s lessons went on, the 
winter was quite far advanced, and Jasper had almost for- 
gotten about the great Worthington lawsuit. She had not 
confided her secret to the Beresfords, simply because she had 
left the whole matter in Mr. Faircastle’s hands, and she 
supposed he would disclose the particulars of the case when- 
ever he felt it advisable to do so. % 

Mr. Faircastle appeared at Sherwood suddenly one morn- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


187 

ing before breakfast. It was plain that he came to see Miss 
St. John, for he had not been in the house five minutes be- 
fore he asked after her. Mr. Beresford had taken it into 
his head that the lawyer’s suit was of a different nature 
from what it really was, consequently Mr. B. left the 
room as soon as Jasper entered it. Mr. Faircastle, v as usual, 
took out package after package of letters yellow with age, 
and reviewed the whole state of the case. The Marchmont 
heir had been notified that an heir of the Worthingtons laid 
claim to the property, and the suit was about to commence. 

“ But my object in visiting Sherwood at this time, Miss 
St. John, is to suggest to you that the opposing counsel may 
offer a compromise. To my mind,” said Mr. Faircastle, 
” it would be folly to listen for a moment to such a propo- 
sition. My advice to you, therefore, is that you swerve 
not from the stand which, as my client, I advise you to 
take,” and the gentleman read out long prosy articles of 
his own prepared to prove the point in question. 

Jasper was greatly relieved when a stop was put to this 
dry proceeding by Dandy’s ringing the breakfast-bell. Loud 
and long he rang it, for he had reason to fear that Miss St. 
John’s visitor might prove indifferent to the call. Mr. 
Faircastle was so absorbed in the explanation of the law to 
Jasper that it is more than probable that he would not have 
heard the summons if Jasper had not called his attention to 
it. He then put up his papers, remarking that he would 
resume business after breakfast. 

To tell the truth, the little gentleman had made such an 
early start from Chatsworth that the bracing mountain air 


i88 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


had sharpened his appetite, and he followed Jasper from 
the room with the mental resolve of doing full justice to all 
that was set before him. 

Mrs. Beresford was not well, and sent Callie to ask that 
Jasper would pour out the coffee. “ And mistress says 
please come to her room after breakfast, ’ ’ added the servant ; 
“ she wants you to attend to things for her while Mr. Fair- 
castle is here.” 

Mrs. Beresford was not one of those housewives who 
would go to bed from mortification on account of the failure 
of a pudding ; nevertheless, she took great pride in her 
table. The announcement that Mr. Faircastle had arrived 
had awakened some concern about her bill of fare for the 
day, and as Jasper on former occasions had given evidence 
of her knowledge in such affairs, she was called in for con- 
sultation. 

Mr. Faircastle finished his second cup of coffee and ac- 
cepted an invitation from Mr. Beresford to join him in tak- 
ing a smoke. As the former gentleman left the dining-room 
he intimated to Jasper that, after disposing of his cigar, he 
would meet her in the library and finish looking over the 
papers he had brought for her inspection. 

Jasper now went to Mrs. Beresford’ s room and soon 
relieved her mind by telling her that the breakfast was all 
that could be desired, and that the guest had shown a hearty 
appreciation of it ; and as for dinner, Mr. Faircastle said he 
would be on his way to Richmond by the time that hour ar- 
rived. 

“ But sit down one moment,” said Mrs. Beresford as 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


189 

Jasper prepared to leave the room. “ I have a letter from 
my father which has filled me with concern for dear Avis. ’ ’ 

Jasper returned, and Mrs. Beresford continued: “The 
dear child has been desperately ill — so ill that at one time 
her life was despaired of. She is easily carried away by ex- 
citement, and going out night after night, first to the opera, 
then to a ball, has not been the best thing in the world for her. 
But, added to this,” continued Mrs. Beresford as she glanced 
over the open letter in her hand, ‘ ‘ my father writes me that 
there is trouble in store for Avis of a very serious nature. 
You know she never could bear to be worried with business, 
and lately my father, who is her guardian as well as her law- 
yer, has thought it best to humor her and not to speak to her 
of money matters. It has come to that point, however, when 
this can be done no longer, for I judge from what is said in 
this letter that there is every prospect that she will be left 
without a penny. Poor dear child ! so delicate ! so help- 
less ! She little dreams what is in store for her, and the 
physician says she must be kept in ignorance of the state of 
her affairs until she rallies sufficiently to stand the shock. 
The worst is that the trip to Europe must be abandoned. 
That was all we looked to that might build up the con- 
stitution of the dear child. When that is given out, and 
Avis is told the whole truth, I fear it will put her in her 
grave. ’ ’ 

“ How sad !” exclaimed Jasper, with genuine sympathy 
in her voice, while her thoughts reverted to the time when 
Avis had acknowledged that she could do nothing for a sup- 
port if she met with a reverse of fortune. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


190 


“It is distressing indeed,” responded Mrs. Beresford. 
“ The whole affair has given me a fearful headache, for 
while Avis will always be heartily welcome to a home with 
us, I fear she will miss many luxuries to which she has been 
accustomed from her birth. But do not let me detain you 
too long. I hear Mr. Beresford calling for you ; go, dear. 
We will talk this matter over some other time, for I know 
you sympathize with me in my anxiety about Avis. ’ ’ 

“Coming!” said Jasper, as she heard Mr. Beresford’s 
deep, full voice from the bottom of the stairs. 

Once more Jasper was back in the library, and Mr. Fair- 
castle was deep in the explanation of dry points which he 
seemed to think it was necessary for Miss St. John to un- 
derstand. 

‘ * I fear I have not been explicit enough, ’ * said the gen- 
tleman, after waiting in vain for a response from his client. 

Jasper had to acknowledge that her mind had been on 
something else, and begging Mr. Faircastle’s pardon, she 
promised to be more attentive. 

“ I was saying,” continued Mr. Faircastle, “ that a com- 
promise would be out of the question, as all the facts of the 
case would prove, and I should be false to my trust to ad- 
vise such a course.” 

Now Jasper felt that her being consulted upon the matter 
at all was a mere form. She was perfectly willing to leave 
the whole affair in Mr. Faircastle’s hands, and she respond- 
ed to that effect, and thus having gotten rid of all responsi- 
bility, like any other girl of her age, she turned the subject 
in a most unbusiness-like manner by asking to look at the 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


I 9 I 

remarkable snuff-box ; her thoughts had been elsewhere 
when she saw it on a former occasion. 

“ By a very singular chance I have it with me,” said Mr. 
Faircastle, feeling in his pocket at the same time. “ I was 
showing it to a friend in my office just before I left the city, 
and when I wished to deposit it in a place of security, I 
found that my partner had gone off with the key of the safe 
in his possession.” 

Mr. Faircastle here handed the snuff-box to Jasper. 

“ And this was my uncle Worthington’s !” she exclaimed. 
“ Strange that such a trifle should prove so powerful an 
agent in my behalf. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ A remarkable circumstance ! — quite a remarkable cir- 
cumstance !” responded Mr. Faircastle. ‘‘Ignorance has 
kept the owner out of his rights — I speak of the ignorance 
of the woman who preserved so religiosuly that scrap of 
paper.” 

Jasper’s eyes dwelt thoughtfully upon the writing for a 
moment. ‘‘By the by,” said she, ‘‘you have never told 
me who the person is that I am about to dispossess of this 
property. ’ ’ 

Mr. Farcastle first closed the door of the library, and 
drawing his chair still nearer to Jasper’s, said, ‘‘It is true 
that the situation is embarrassing, but sentiment must not be 
considered in such matters.” 

“ I do not understand you,” responded Jasper as her eye 
still wandered over the scrap of paper in her hand as if she 
looked there for some clue to the mystery. 

‘‘You are acquainted with the Marchmont heir,” said 


ig2 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Mr. Faircastle. “ Your intercourse has hitherto been pleas- 
ant — I may say — friendly? I assure you I shall take no 
course that will not be just and honorable ; leave all to me.” 

“ But I must know who this myth is,” said Jasper. 
“ Indeed, Mr. Faircastle, I should have been informed be- 
fore. The truth is, I have been preoccupied of late, and 
have not taken as much interest in the case as I should have 
done under different circumstances.” 

“ Is it possible !” ejaculated Mr. Faircastle. “ You do 
not realize the importance of this matter I suppose. ’ ’ 

“You are wrong there,” said Jasper. “ I fully appreciate 
your efforts to restore a competency to one who is depend- 
ent upon her own exertions for a support.” 

Mr. Faircastle bowed an acknowledgment of the compli- 
ment. 

“ And now,” said he, “ I must at your request divulge a 
secret which, if I could have done so, it would have been 
best to have kept a little longer.” 

“ I prefer hearing it,” said Jasper, with some determina- 
tion, evincing by her manner that she did not wish to be 
treated as a child. 

“ As you desire,” responded Mr. Faircastle, tying up a 
package of papers and keeping his client in suspense for a 
moment or two. At last he put the documents aside and 
added slowly, “ That little scrap of writing which you now 
hold in your hand deprives Avis Marchmont Frothingham 
of all property inherited from ” 

‘ ‘ Avis FrothinghaiJi !’ ’ exclaimed Jasper, springing almost 
from her seat, while the snuff-box rolled to the floor and 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 193 

almost into the fire before Mr. Faircastle could rescue it. 
“ Avis Frothingharn /” she said again. 

“Avis Marchmont Frothingham,” reiterated Mr. Fair- 
castle. 

A pained expression came over Jasper’s countenance. 
Probably she was thinking of that moment of anguish when 
Avis gave her the parting kiss, but uttered words which put 
forever a gulf between Jasper St. John and Sidney Rains- 
ford. Perhaps the evil one was now working in that human 
heart, whispering the insinuating words, “ Revenge is sweet,” 
for Mr. Faircastle observed the dark cloud upon Jasper’s 
brow, and the momentary flash that lighted up her fine gray 
eyes. 

“ How strange ! This, then, is what would probably put 
Avis in her grave if it came to her knowledge. ’ ’ 

“ I know nothing of that, my dear young lady. My cor- 
respondence has been entirely with her lawyer, Mr. Tracey.” 

“ The loss of fortune would prevent the tour of Europe 
and foster the disease upon her with which she is threat- 
ened,” said Jasper. 

“ I know nothing of that," persisted Mr. Faircastle. 

Jasper still fingered the faded scrap of paper, but the 
troubled expression was all gone ; she had come to a decision. 

“Mr. Faircastle,” said Jasper, “we must abandon this 
case now, and perhaps forever. I cannot consent to do 
any thing that could bring such disaster to a fellow-crea- 
ture. I reserve to myself the privilege of waiting to take 
action in the matter until there is less risk to one whom I 
formerly regarded as a friend.” 


194 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“You cannot be in earnest, my dear young friend.” 

1 ‘ I mean all that I say, ’ ’ responded Jasper. ‘ ‘ I have the 
means of support at my command ; Avis has not. 1 have 
health and strength ; Avis is fragile.” 

“You are full of the romance of youth now,” said Mr. 
Faircastle. “ I fear you will regret this when you discover 
that by some poverty is considered a crime. ’ ’ 

“ That is only the feeling of vulgar souls, who the moment 
they are stripped of wealth are the most pitiable of God’s 
creatures,” responded Jasper. 

“ And your decision is unalterable ?” said Mr. Faircastle, 
with a shade of disappointment in his tone. 

“ For the present — yes ! Perhaps forever ! But do not 
think me ungrateful for all the pains you have taken in my 
behalf. If I were to act otherwise than I have done, I should 
go contrary to my convictions of what is right. ’ ’ 

Mr. Faircastle grasped for a moment the hand that was 
offered him, but ere he released it he said, not without emo- 
tion, “ If the time should ever come when you would look 
back on this hour and say you acted from impulse — send 
for me — I am at your service. After all, wealth of character 
is a personal estate which is indestructible — the income is 
perpetual — the enjoyment endless.” And having finished 
this little speech, he seized his hat and rushed from the 
house for fear of encountering some one who would see the 
moisture which dimmed his eyes. 


IN DEAD EARNEST, 


195 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

Not many weeks after the circumstances related in the last 
chapter Mrs. Beresford joyfully greeted Jasper with the news 
that the trouble had all blown over, and the misfortune that 
had threatened Avis seemed now like a fearful nightmare. 
Mrs. Beresford never understood the particulars of the case, 
and did not know how it was, but Mr. Tracey wrote that his 
fears had been allayed by something entirely unforeseen. 

“ After all, it was well that Avis had been told nothing of 
the abyss on which she stood. She had gone to Europe, 
was getting quite well again, and when she came back she 
would know the whole truth.” 

Soon Avis was heard of as the star of American society 
in various European cities, and as the eclat attending her 
beauty and fascinations increased, letters in her hand-writing 
came less frequently to Sherwood, and at last ceased almost 
entirely. 

Then a rumor was wafted across the ocean that Sidney 
Rainsford had joined the army of the Khedive, and that 
bit of telegraphic news appeared in every prominent paper 
both North and South. 

Mr. Beresford lost all patience when he heard this. He 
conjectured that Avis had been at her old tricks. “ What 
business had she to trifle with such a man as Sidney Rains- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


196 

ford ! The young woman should be lectured when she 
came again to Sherwood.” Mr. Beresford would let 
her know “ that he did not countenance such dissimula- 
tion !” 

But while things were going on contrary to Mr. Beres- 
ford’ s approbation, the seasons were marching along in 
steady course, and spring had shaken hands with winter, 
and finally summer bade farewell to spring, and Sherwood 
was once more “ vocal with the melody of birds” and fra- 
grant with the breath of flowers. 

The Beresford’s usually spent a month every summer at 
“ The Springs” in their neighborhood, and they now invited 
Jasper to share the cottage which they had owned there for 
many years. 

Jasper had not decided how or where to dispose of her 
vacation, and as this plan was more pleasant than any that 
presented itself, she accepted the invitation with thanks. 

As month after month passed, two persons at Sherwood 
watched the papers with anxiety for items in regard to the 
army of the Khedive. 

At last, one morning, as Mr. Beresford sat at the foot of 
the table waiting for a second cup of coffee, he opened the 
mail which Dandy had just brought in. 

“ Nothing of importance,” said Mr. Beresford, glancing 
at the circulars and postal cards, and taking up his news- 
paper. Suddenly his plate was pushed away, and his wife 
looked up to see her husband with one hand over his eyes. 

” Dead !” he exclaimed. 

" Who, my dear ?” asked Mrs. Beresford, at the same time 


IN DEAD EARNEST. jgj 

trying to quiet Tiny, who was asking for more sugar in her 
tea. ‘ ‘ Whom did you say ?’ ’ 

“ Sidney Rainsford ! See !” exclaimed Mr. Beresford, 
drawing his wife’s attention to a paragraph in the paper 
which he held. “See! died in a hospital in Alexandria, 
the gallant Sidney Rainsford, a Virginian and a noted offi- 
cer in the Confederate army !’’ 

There was a silence for some moments, and then Mr. 
Beresford, wiping his eyes, said, “ I loved that man. Mrs. 
Beresford, if Avis Frothingham has done this, she will re- 
pent it.” 

“ Do not be hasty, dear,” said Mrs. Beresford. “ We do 
not know all the points. Avis may not be to blame. You 
know the Rainsfords are peculiar.” 

“ He was a noble man,” said Mr. B., disregarding his 
wife’s defence of Avis, and leaving his coffee untouched as 
he walked up and down the room. 

“ Miss St. John, I see that you sympathize with us in the 
loss of this dear friend. I read it in your countenance. 
The expression of your grief is a just tribute to the worth 
of the man — I thank you for it. When history is written 
and the deeds of the Southern soldier are recorded, no 
nobler name will go sounding down through ages than that 
of Sidney Rainsford.” 

Mrs. Beresford did not finish the muffin she had buttered, 
and Jasper sought the quiet of her own chamber. The 
children saw that something was the matter with papa, and 
did not claim the usual morning petting. 

“ The house is becoming gloomy ; we must cheer up,” 


198 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


said Mrs. Beresford some days after hearing the sad tidings 
of Sidney Rainsford’s death. So Jasper’s musical talents 
were called into requisition, and she was urged to sing the 
old Scotch songs that Mr. Beresford loved better than all 
others. 

She did sing them until she broke down, and Mr. Mande- 
ville, who was present, remarked that the highest compliment 
he could pay her as a vocalist was to say ‘ ‘ that there were 
tears in her voice. * ’ 

The summer holidays had come, the Virginia watering 
places were filling up with visitors, and Mrs. Beresford was 
quite impatient to get her husband away from Sherwood 
and into the society of some of his cheerful friends. 

She felt that there was a cloud upon his brow, and how 
to dispel it she knew not. His first wife had been gifted 
with the faculty of making hm forget every trouble. The 
present Mrs. Beresford was so young when she was mar- 
ried, that she now felt as if she were assuming a new role, 
and almost stepping beyond the bounds of propriety when 
she endeavored to amuse the elderly husband who had al- 
ways petted and amused his wife as he would have done a 
child. 

The following week, therefore, was decided upon for the 
departure of the family from Sherwood for a season. Jas- 
per finished all her own arrangements, and then lent a helping 
hand to Mrs. Beresford, who, in endeavoring to supply a 
suitable quantity of aprons, sacques, hats, and dresses for 
the little Beresfords, felt that she had the world on her 
shoulders. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


I 99 

“ The trunks are packed, but what if company should 
come !” exclaimed Mrs. Beresford. 

“ Unpack, of course, my dear. I will never turn a friend 
from my door as long as I have a crust of bread and a roof 
over my head!” responded Mr. Beresford. 

The words had scarcely passed his lips when Dandy, look- 
ing down a vista of shade trees as he handed his master his 
pipe, made a discovery that a vehicle was approaching Sher- 
wood. 

The occupant of the coach could not be discerned in the 
dim twilight, and Dandy retired to relieve himself of his but- 
ler’s apron ere he was summoned to the front of the house 
by the heavy brass knocker which each guest seemed to know 
well how to wield. 

In the course of a few moments, bang ! went the knocker 
three or four times ; and so decided and peremptory was 
the call that Dandy tore off a button in trying to get rid of 
his superfluous article of clothing. 

He was at the door in a moment, and the person whom he 
confronted there caused him to stand with open mouth and 
dilated eyes for a second or more. 

“ Is Jasper St. John at home ?” inquired the visitor. 

Dandy was trying to collect his senses, and had not yet 
found his tongue. 

“ Is Jasper here ?” asked the stranger a second time, ele- 
vating his voice and thinking probably the servant was deaf. 

‘ ‘ I think, sir, she are within, although she mought be 
without,” responded Dandy, putting on his company man- 
ners and trying to use his best grammar. 


200 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Thee need not say sir to me. What is thy name ?’ * said 
the gentleman at the door. 

“ Dan Skipper, master. Won’t you walk in ?” 

‘ ‘ Thee need not call me master. In the sight of God I 
am Ephraim Grantland, and thee is Daniel Skipper. If 
thee choses, thee may call me friend Grantland. Will thee 
be kind enough to find out if my niece Jasper is at home ?” 

“ Yes, sir, I’ll see, Mass Friend,” replied Dandy, show- 
ing Ephraim Grantland into the sitting-room and going in 
search of Mammy to inform her that there was the most curi- 
ous old gentleman in the house he ever had seen. 

“ My uncle here !” exclaimed Jasper with genuine delight 
when Callie came in with the news. 

Through the long hall and down the stairs sped Jasper as 
quickly as her feet could carry her, and soon her arms were 
around Ephraim Grantland ’s neck, and grateful tears gushed 
from the eyes that had so long been dry. 

“ Dear, thee is the same impetuous child as ever. I bless 
thee, my daughter. ’ ’ 

‘‘You don’t know all, uncle. I am learning to be quiet — 
but I am so glad to see you,” and she kissed him again. 

“ Sit down, my daughter, we have little time to talk, for 
I must leave to-morrow morning.” 

“ To-morrow?” 

“ Ay, to-morrow !” 

“ Why to-morrow, uncle ?” 

“ Time is precious, and I have come for thee.” 

“ Come for me !” Jasper’s heart sank within her. 
“ Come for me !” she exclaimed again. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


201 


“Yes, dear.” 

“ Why, uncle ?” 

“ Thy aunt has been ill. I need thy help. We have no 
one who is competent.” 

“ Where is Sophy ?” 

“ She is married !” 

“ Sophy married !” exclaimed Jasper in astonishment. 
“ She vowed she never would !” 

“True, dear, but in matrimonial affairs a woman often 
does not know what she will do until she is asked.” 

“ Sophy married ?” 

“ Yes, dear, but it might have been worse.” 

“ And my aunt has been ill ?” 

“ Yes, and without her knowledge I have come South in 
the hope of collecting a little debt that has long been owing 
to me. A neighbor has promised to remain with Hester until 
my return, and I have come a hundred miles out of my way 
in the hope of taking thee back with me. Will thee go ?’ ’ 

Jasper hesitated. “ This is sudden,” she said. “ I have 
promised to go elsewhere.” 

“For pleasure ?” 

“ No, not for pleasure ; for a change.” 

“ Thee will find a very great change if thee goes with me, 
dear. ’ ' 

“ And in the hope that I may forget . Uncle,” said 

Jasper, suddenly hiding her face upon his shoulder, “ I 
have not been happy.”* 

“ That is nothing unusual, my child. Man is born to 
sorrow as the sparks fly upward. ’ ’ 


202 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Jasper here noticed for the first time that there were many 
more lines in her uncle’s face than when she last parted 
with him. 

“ Uncle,” said Jasper, “ I know what is my duty, but it 
is hard to perform.” 

“ Thee is at least honest, my child,” said Ephraim Grant- 
land, a little disappointed. 

“ Can I not have a little time to reflect ?” 

“Yes, I will not compel thee. I give thee till to- 
morrow morning at six o’clock,” said Ephraim Grantland, 
looking at his watch. “ Did thee say that thee had known 
trouble, my child ?” 

‘‘ Yes, uncle.” 

“ Through much tribulation shall we enter the kingdom of 
heaven, Jasper.” 

“ I know, I know,” responded Jasper, “ but heaven seems 
so far off.” 

‘‘Not so far, my child, if we lift our hearts off of this 
earth.” 

“ Did you say six o’clock ?’ 

‘‘Yes, I must be off by six to the minute. By extra pay 
I have induced the driver of the Fairy Belle to call here for 
me to-morrow morning. I suppose John Beresford will 
give me shelter for the night ?’ ’ 

“ Of course. He is hospitality itself. I shall miss them, 
uncle, they are such dear, kind friends.” 

“ I said I would not force thee tt> go contrary to thy in- 
clination. I will promise also that thee may return here if 
thy aunt is restored to health.” 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


203 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

When Jasper went to her room the altered countenance of 
her uncle haunted her, still she could not make up her 
mind to go with him. 

“ Ah, those were bitter words my aunt spoke to me — - 
‘ Who does thee think would have thee!' ” — and Jasper sat 
with her face buried in her hands for some moments. 

“ No, I will not go,” she said at length, and after undress- 
ing she put out the light and went to bed. “ I can not ” 
were the last words she murmured to herself, and then with 
the weariness that follows a mental struggle she closed her 
eyes in sleep. 

The chamber was dark and still, and Jasper slumbered 
on for hours without dreaming. Suddenly she was brought 
face to face with a countenance of dazzling brightness. A 
glory filled the room. A voice seemed to cry out peremp- 
torily, 4 4 Go /’ ’ 

She sprang out of bed ; she rubbed her eyes — the light 
was blinding. 

“Go !” something seemed to say again. 

44 Go where ?” Jasper asked herself. 

All of a sudden she remembered that Ephraim Grant- 
land had come for her and was sleeping in the adjoining 
ropm. 


204 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“I will," said Jasper as if answering a messenger from 
the spirit-world ; "I will l" 

She was now wide awake. The moon had risen ; she saw 
it through the foliage of the oak tree in front of her window. 
It seemed to hang there like a golden apple ; it had been 
shining upon her pillow. This, then, was the countenance 
that had confronted her. 

Jasper moved around the room gathering some few articles 
that lay scattered about ; she needed no lamp, the moon- 
light was everywhere. She had little packing to do ; the 
trunks were ready for a different journey. Lastly she took 
her travelling dress from the wardrobe and placed it upon a 
chair close at hand. 

“ Now I am ready, ” said Jasper as she let down the curtain 
at the window and went back to bed. 

Far away in the alcove the clock struck two, and the 
moon, having fulfilled its mission, left the old oak tree behind 
and went sailing away around the world. 

When Mrs. Beresford came down the next morning she 
was astonished at the turn matters had taken. 

“ Jasper to leave them ! How could she get along with- 
out her !” 

The day promised to be a gloomy one. Clouds obscured 
the mountains and nature seemed about to burst into tears. 

The last button of Jasper’s travelling dress was fastened, 
her hat was on, and Ephraim Grantland waited for her at 
the foot of the stairs. 

Mr. Beresford would not hear of their leaving without a 
hot cup of coffee, and into the dining-room they must go. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 205 

“ I thank thee, John Beresford, but I would not have 
had thee trouble thyself. ’ ’ 

Friend Grantland nevertheless partook of the hot cakes, 
the scrambled eggs, and delicious Mocha, and felt refreshed 
thereby. 

Jasper had particularly requested that the children should 
not be roused ; the leave-taking could only be painful. So 
going into the nursery, she kissed each little sleeper. A tear 
would find its way from her cheek to Tiny’s, and Jasper 
brushed it off hastily as she heard her uncle calling her from 
the hall. 

“ Come, dear, finish thy farewells,” said he ; “we shall 
be late. ’ ’ 

Thus hurried, Jasper went down, was embraced by Mrs. 
Beresford, while Mr. B. grasped her hand and said heartily, 
“ God bless you, my dear young lady ; we shall look for 
you back some day.” 

Jasper’s heart was full. She took the basket of lunch 
Dandy had prepared, said “ Good-bye” to the servants, 
was helped into the dilapidated old coach, and the travel- 
lers drove off. 

Ephraim Grantland pulled his hat over his eyes, leaned 
back, and tried to finish his morning’s nap. 

They rattled along for miles with no word to break the 
silence from those inside the coach. The driver’s musical 
talent seemed to have deserted him ; he only scolded and 
whipped his horses. As Jasper closed her eyes and folded 
her arms she felt as if a pall had fallen over the earth, the 
last remnant of a dream had vanished. A day or two 


206 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


passed ; the whole journey, both by stage coach and rail, 
was accomplished. 

“ Here we are, my dear,” said Ephraim Grantland as the 
train neared the city. ” Has thee got on good stout shoes ?” 

Jasper said “Yes.” 

“ It is well. We will not take a carriage.” 

After giving some directions about the trunks, Mr. Grant- 
land and his niece left the train. 

They walked on for some time through a strange part of 
the city, and finally came to a halt before an humble dwell- 
ing. 

“ This is our new home — we are taking lodgings,” said he, 
and Ephraim Grantland opened the door with the latch-kep 
he carried in his pocket. The little room into which Jasper 
was admitted was destitute of comfort. There was neither 
carpet nor matting on the floor, no curtains at the windows, 
none but hard, stiff, straight-back chairs ranged against the 
wall. 

“Dear, thee seems surprised,” said her uncle. “Thee 
may as well know the truth at once. This little furniture is 
all I own. My fortune was swept away in the great money 
crisis that occured a few months ago. I am only a clerk in 
the establishment of which I was once the head. ’ ’ 

The door of the room adjoining now opened, and an elderly 
woman dressed as a Quaker came towards them. 

“Iam glad to see thee has gotten back safely,” said she 
as she shook hands with Jasper and her uncle in turn. 

“Yes, friend Grey, we are here all right. How is Hes- 
ter ?” asked Ephraim Grantland. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 20J 

11 Not so well as when you left ; she has had another 
attack ; I fear her right arm is paralyzed. * ’ 

Ephraim bowed his head in his hands for a moment. 

“ She is asleep now, and had best not be disturbed. Jas- 
per, thee may go softly to the little room upstairs, where thee 
can take off thy hat and rest for a while." 

Jasper did as she was advised. Upstairs she found still 
further proof of the fallen fortunes of her uncle, and the un- 
trained, awkward girl who appeared with clean towels for the 
traveller was a poor substitute for the neat and bustling Sophy 
Gregg. 

Soon friend Grey came up and gave Jasper all the particu- 
lars of her aunt’s illness. Mrs. Grey expressed her opinion 
that the attack had been brought on by trouble, and aggra- 
vated by the want of those comforts to which Mrs. Grant- 
land had always been accustomed. 

‘ ‘ And now, dear, my own household needs looking after, 
and I must go away this afternoon. I will come and help 
thee whenever I can, for thee is young to have such a re- 
sponsibility put upon thee.” 

The scanty dinner was ready. There was nothing upon 
the table to tempt the appetite of an invalid, and Jasper 
noticed the pained expression upon her uncle’s countenance 
when the plate which had been sent to Hester was returned 
with the food untouched. 

The meal was finished in silence, and as Ephraim rose 
from the table he stroked fondly his niece’s hair as he said, 

“ Go to thy room, Jasper, put thy clothing in order there, 
and then take thy rest. I will watch by Hester for the 


208 


IN DEAD EARNEST . 


remainder of the day. To-morrow thee will be installed as 
head nurse, for then I must go back to my work. Thee 
knows, dear, I have lodgings to pay for now. ’ ’ 

The atmosphere of the darkened room to which Jasper 
was admitted the next day was stifling. The shutters could 
not be opened. There was no drapery to soften the glare 
that poured through the windows. 

Hester lay unconscious upon her pillows. She did not 
seem to care who ministered to her wants, and Jasper lifted 
her head and gave the medicine which the doctor had pre- 
scribed, though as she did so she received no token of recog- 
nition from the invalid. As days went on, however, Hester 
Grantland found out that there was something soothing in 
the touch of that soft, cool hand upon her forehead — she 
learned to look for it. The person who moved so noise- 
lessly about the chamber anticipated her wants. Who could 
it be ? Suddenly the mist that had obscured her mental 
faculties cleared away, and Hester Grantland knew that 
Jasper was her nurse. 

And now, brought low through illness and trouble, Mrs. 
Grantland was left in solemn communion with her own 
thoughts. The icy draught that was offered to her parched 
lips was always in time. She watched in silence the arrange- 
ments made for her comfort. She saw the hand that plied 
so industriously the needle until a curtain was improvised 
to exclude the glare of the scorching sun. 

Jasper, who had been well paid for her services by Mr. 
Beresford, had it in her power to procure for her uncle’s 
house many conveniences which he could not possibly have 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


209 


afforded. Soft mats were provided for the bare floors, and 
Hester Grantland gained some little appetite. She well knew 
that the fruit and delicate fare daily offered her were not 
purchased with the money in her husband’s scanty purse, 
Jasper alone must have done it ; Jasper alone obeyed Mrs. 
Grantland’s voice in the stillness of the night ; Jasper came 
to her bedside at the rising of the sun. 

We will not attempt to analyze Hester’s feelings as she lay 
prostrate upon that couch of illness. Suffice it to say she 
underwent the discipline of sorrow, her narrow-minded 
prejudices vanished, her whole life lay stretched before her 
like a map. 

Sophy came to see Jasper as soon as she heard of her 
arrival. Sophy was ‘ ‘ so glad somebody had come to take 
care of the old folks. It did seem out of the question for 
them to be left there without kith or kin. As for Mr. Abel, 
it would have been better if he had never been born, he had 
turned out so badly.” This was the first time Jasper had 
heard Abel’s name called ; she felt a hesitancy in asking 
after him. She was almost sure from her uncle’s silence in 
regard to him that something disagreeable had happened. 

“ Yes,” continued Sophy, “you know Mr. Abel with all 
his fine education didn’t believe — no, he didn’t believe ; and 
after his father’s money all went, why you wouldn’t have 
known the young man. Weeks went by sometimes and 
nobody knew where he was. The truth is, he got into bad 
habits, and the next thing we heard of him was that he had 
gone to California. ’ ’ 

Sophy gave Jasper news also of some of her old compan- 


210 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


ions. Most of them were out of the city for the summer. 
The Reinbergs had gone to Germany on a visit, Dr. Beckwith 
was dead, and Miss Harrison was now Principal of the 
Academy, and Sophy wound up by saying she had just come 
over to bring a little jelly to Mrs. Grantland, which she 
hoped she would enjoy. Sophy had known well how to 
tempt the appetite of her mistress, and she proved on this 
occasion that her hand had not forgotten its cunning. And 
when she said good-bye to Jasper, she promised to come 
often and help the girl in the kitchen, and to sit up at night 
whenever Miss St. John wanted her. 

Under Jasper’s administration the dreary-looking apart- 
ments in which her uncle lived assumed a more cheerful as- 
pect. Friend Grey said that Jasper was a blessing, but what 
said Hester ? Nothing ! 

And now the physician gave permission to the invalid to 
sit up *, but her bones ached, and Hester looked at the hard, 
straight-back chairs and shook her head ; it would not do. 
Oh ! if she might only once more be at the window and 
breathe the fresh cool morning air. Alas ! it could not be. 
She must lie upon her bed all through the long, long, weary 
day. She dreamed sometimes that she was young, that she 
could go where she pleased, that no one could restrain her, 
then woke to find herself almost suffocated in the narrow bed 
and close apartment. But one morning, in the first rosy 
blush of the day, Hester descried what she had so much 
coveted — an invalid' s chair ! Right by the window it stood ; 
its soft, wide arms seemed to be stretched out to her ; they in- 
vited her to “ come !” Hester knew whose bounty had sup- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


21 I 


plied that comfort, and as Jasper bent over her and arranged 
her pillows, the spirit of the living God entered the invalid’s 
heart, and she whispered, “ Kiss me , Jasper .” 

Poor, wretched, helpless — what a wreck was Hester Grant- 
land ! God had taken his own time and his own way to do 
his work. Jasper leaned over and kissed her aunt. 

“ Now if thee can help me,” said Hester, “ it may be that 
I can sit at the window. I long to look elsewhere than at 
this dingy wall. Alas ! I am too heavy for thee,” and Hester 
fell back upon her pillows. 

But, according to Jasper’s request, Sophy was within call, 
and the two succeeded in getting Mrs. Grantland out of the 
bed and into the new chair ; and now, for the first time for 
many weeks, she looked out upon the street, saw the busy 
crowd hurrying along, felt that she too yet lived and was cared 
for. 

Soon Sophy brought the tempting tea, which, to suit Mrs. 
Grantland’ s taste, must not stand a moment too long upon 
the leaves ; the toast was just right ; a bunch of flowers was 
upon the waiter. Jasper, seeing that all was as it should 
be, made ready to leave the room. 

“ Comeback, Jasper,” said her aunt in the old peremptory 
tone. ‘ ‘ Sophy, thee can go. ’ ’ 

Jasper stood by Hester’s chair. 

' “ I wronged thee once ; it cannot be undone ; thee must 

forget it, though and Mrs. Grantland having waved her 
hand in token that she had nothing more to say, Jasper went 
out, while her aunt with closed eyes said the silent grace 
over the breakfast her niece had prepared. 


212 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

At first Jasper yearned for the Southern home she had 
left. She missed the happy voices of the children, she 
missed the warm hearts she had won for herself, but as time 
went on and she saw how necessary she was to her aunt, and 
especially when her uncle laid his hand upon his niece’s head 
and called her his “ sunshine,” Jasper was glad that she had 
not disregarded the voice of conscience which called to her 
so suddenly in the night. 

Jasper saw that the wound which Abel had inflicted upon 
his father’s heart was too sore ever to be healed. There 
was a deep-seated sorrow under his quiet air of resignation, 
a far-away look out of the failing eyes, and a weariness 
about the formerly elastic step. Hester was gradually re- 
covering the use of her limbs, and the doctor said, ‘ ‘ with 
her fine constitution she might last many years, although she 
never would be strong again.” 

A serious difficulty presented itself to Jasper at this time. 
Her little stock of money was almost gone. The question 
uppermost in her mind was how she should replenish her 
scanty purse. Mrs. Beresford was again at home, and 
wrote that the children needed their teacher sadly. She 
hoped Miss St. John had not made any other engagement. 
Jasper pondered the matter in her own mind. Those two 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


213 


old people were too dependent to be left alone ; it was out 
of the question. No, she could not return to Sherwood ; 
she might as well write and tell Mrs. B. so at once. Friend 
Grey came in often and brought her knitting, and at such 
times insisted that Jasper should go out for a breath of fresh 
air. It was not likely that so prominent a person in the so- 
ciety of Friends as Mrs. Grantland was would be allowed to 
suffer for anything that it was in the power of that benevo- 
lent body to provide. As soon as it was known how re- 
duced were the circumstances of the Grantlands, there was 
many a kind act performed for them. The greatest trouble, 
however, Jasper alone had alleviated. In Hester Grantland’s 
childish old age the words of Ephraim came back to her in full 
force. He had said, “ Jasper may be a comfort to thee some 
day.” Jasper had proved all that her uncle had said she 
would be. Jasper’s hand put the room to rights, Jasper’s hand 
smoothed the pillows, Jasper’s money had been spent right 
and left. But now that money was gone. Jasper had hoped 
to get a situation in Miss Harrison’s school, but that lady’s 
corps of teachers was made up before Jasper’s return North, 
consequently she could look for no employment from that 
quarter. Jasper foresaw how much her little supply of 
money would be missed, yet what could she do ? If she 
went away, her services would be quite as great a loss. In 
this quandary she resolved to state the true condition of 
affairs to her uncle on the following day, and allow him to 
decide between a choice of evils. Alas ! the morrow never 
dawned for Ephraim Grantland ! During his wife’s illness 
he had taken the little room at the head of the stairs for his 


214 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


chamber in order that he might not disturb Hester by his 
early rising. 

“ My uncle is later than usual,” said Jasper as she carried 
her aunt’s breakfast to her. 

“I am glad of it — do not disturb him,” said Mrs. Grant- 
land. “ He has been working hard ; a quarter’s rent is due 
for our lodgings, and he has to raise the money.” So Jas- 
per kept the coffee hot, and even abstracted a portion of her 
aunt’s breakfast for her uncle. Still he did not come. 
Eight o’clock struck, yet Ephraim Grantland did not stir. 
Nine came and went, and still the sleeper was in his bed. 
At last, when the great town-clock rang out the hour of ten, 
Hester said, “ Thee may as well waken thy uncle, Jasper ; 
he has enjoyed enough slumber now, and should have his 
breakfast.” 

Jasper went to his door. She tapped softly at first, then 
louder. “Uncle! uncle!” she said. Still no response. 
“ Uncle, it is time to be up ; the clock has struck ten.” 
Ephraim Grantland said nothing. Jasper knocked louder. 
“ Uncle, your breakfast is waiting.” Still no voice replied. 
“ Your business awaits you, uncle ; what will your em- 
ployer say ?” This appeal, like the others, was unavailing. 
Then Jasper opened the door. She went softly to the bed. 
A heavenly smile was on the sleeper’s lips, the semblance 
of youth was in every lineament. 

“ Uncle !” said Jasper, leaning over him and copying the 
phraseology of the Quakers, ‘ ‘ thee is lazy ; thee will lose 
thy place ; wake up, dear.” She stooped still lower and 
kissed him. His brow was cold — so cold ! “ Uncle, wake 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


215 


up ! ” Still no response. ‘ ‘ U ncle, thee will lose thy place — 
indeed thee will !” But still that placid smile lingered upon 
those silent lips. What cared the sleeper if he did lose 
his place ? — he had gone where lodgings were free. Yes, 
Ephraim Grantland was dead ! 

When Jasper learned this, God seemed to have forsaken 
her. She fell upon her knees, and a cry of anguish she 
could not stifle burst from her lips. It rang through the 
house, and Sophy, who had just come in, ran upstairs to 
see what was the matter. 

There lay Ephraim Grantland in the majesty of death, 
but his spirit had gone into the presence of its Maker. And 
as it lay its burden down at the feet of the Saviour, a smile 
so heavenly broke upon the lips of the mortal body that 
those who saw it exclaimed, “ Weep not for the dead, but 
for the living, for he is at rest, and we in tears !” 

The funeral was over, and sympathizing friends discoursed 
to each other in smothered tones on the uncertainty of life. 
“ Who would have supposed that Hester Grantland would 
have outlived her husband ? yet there she was, helpless and 
bereaved, while he had gone to that rest which remaineth for 
the people of God.” 

What could be done for the desolate woman ? That must 
be the question now. At last one of those angels of mercy 
whom God allows to dwell for a season in our midst came 
forward and said : 

“ Though not rich, I have more of this world’s goods 
than I deserve. I would be glad to have Friend Grantland 
live with me.” So the matter was mentioned to Hester, 


2l6 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


and she sanctioned every arrangement with the gentleness 
and submission of a child. Yes, she thanked her friends ; 
she would go wherever they thought best. 

Jasper was now free to rejoin her Southern friends, and 
she was not slow in writing to Mr. Beresford the day and 
hour she might be expected at Chatsworth. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Once more the train sped through the lovely valley, and 
Jasper was one of those who helped to make up the freight 
of human beings travelling to the southward. 

At last all the distance was accomplished with the ex- 
ception of a few miles, and now once more the Fairy Belle 
went rattling and dashing over the stones in the principal 
street of the village of Chatsworth. The driver pulled up 
his horses before a house for the accommodation of travel- 
lers, and as Jasper descended from the high-swung vehicle 
in which she had been confined, her eye fell upon the Sher- 
wood carriage. Children seemed to be pouring out of the 
windows. Mammy sat supreme in power in the midst of the 
active little throng, who, as soon as they saw Jasper, cried 
out at the top of their voices, “ Miss St. John has come ! 
There she is !” 

Once more Jasper feels Tiny’s arms tighten around her 
neck, and the heart that has been starved for love goes out 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 2 I 7 

to those little children, and Pink, who is more shy than the 
rest, whispers : 

“ Mamma would have come too, but she was not well,” 
while Rob tries to look indifferent, but rubs his eyes with 
a corner of his sleeve, and after awhile infcfrms Jasper he 
has a new rabbit-trap, which he will show her as soon as 
he gets home ; but the greatest piece of news of all they 
had to tell was that Cousin Avis was coming back to Sher- 
wood. 

Just then Mr. Beresford rode into the village. He thought 
he had timed himself to the minute, but he was a little too 
late. As he approached Jasper he looked like some ” potent, 
grave, and worthy seigneur,” for he wore his long white 
beard outside of his coat, and usually his barb was not visi- 
ble. When the Civil War first broke out such had been that 
worthy gentleman’s confidence in the success of the South- 
ern cause that he had vowed never to shave until the Con- 
federacy had achieved her independence. Alas ! that beard 
was in a fair way to resemble Aaron’s, which reached to the 
hem of his garments ; but Mr. B. was true to his word. 
” Never had shaved — never would /’ so his beard being of 
an inconvenient length, he generally tucked it inside of his 
vest, which he wore fastened nearly to the throat. 

He gave Jasper a hearty welcome, and soon the whole 
party set out for Sherwood. Arriving there, they found 
Mrs. Beresford at the door ready to meet them. When she 
caught sight of the sable-clad figure which sprang from the 
carriage, she gave Jasper an embrace which seemed more 
like that of a younger sister than of a stranger. 


2 1 8 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


Avis was coming. No letter had been received — only a 
telegram ; the news was entirely unexpected. 

Jasper was reinstated in her old room, and felt as much 
at home as ever, but the children claimed a week more of 
holiday, and Mrs. Beresford was in favor of their being in- 
dulged. Her true reason, however, for sanctioning this 
was that Jasper, who had been so confined all summer, might 
enjoy a little respite. 

Once more in that old Virginia homestead a spirit which 
had been tossed about by fears within and foes without en- 
joyed repose. No wonder that word “ repose” is associated 
with greatness and goodness — ay, with God himself. Jasper 
enjoyed a repose of the soul, because her thoughts did not 
condemn her acts. She slept all through the night, moon or 
no moon, storm or no storm — indeed, so heavily did she slum- 
ber that Mammy opened the door one morning and was 
shocked to find her still in bed. Breakfast was ready, and, 
said Mammy as she peered through the half open door, 
” She's come." 

“ Who,” asked Jasper, a little bewildered at first. 

“ Miss Avis ! Mr. Tracey came with her — got here 
after everybody had gone to bed — took a private carriage 
from Oakwood — oh ! it’s a mighty, monsous pity !” 

“ What ?” asked Jasper, now fairly out of bed. 

“ Hurry, child, there’s the first bell ; I must go ; the 
children will be making a noise,” and Mammy left Jasper’s 
room as unceremoniously as she had entered it. 

When Jasper had dressed herself and gone downstairs, 
she met Mrs. Beresford in the hall. 


IN DEAD EARNEST 


2 19 


“Avis must not see any one to-day,” whispered Mrs. 
B. “She looks wretchedly. My father had no idea that 
the journey would prove so trying. Avis was so bent upon 
coming South that nothing else would satisfy her. She 
asked the first thing if you were at Sherwood, and when I 
told her yes she said she had felt sure of it ; she would not 

wait to write ” and here Mrs. Beresford was called off 

without finishing all she had to say. A day passed before any 
one was allowed to see Avis. The physician from Chats- 
worth came out, and looked much more serious when he 
went away than when he arrived. 

At last the children were rejoiced by the news that aunt 
Avis was ready for them. They crept into her chamber like 
mice, and soon came out with the beautiful things Avis had 
bought them in Europe. Next Jasper was wanted, and as 
she opened the door she saw Avis lying back upon her pil- 
lows looking whiter than the embroidered cashmere wrap- 
per that enveloped her delicate form. 

Jasper drew near the bed, and Avis put out one thin, hot 
hand by way of welcome. 

‘ ‘ Darling, * ’ said she, ‘ ‘ I have wanted to see you so long. 

Ever since ’ ’ Avis coughed violently, and had to wait 

some time before she could finish what she had to say. 

‘ ‘ I have come back to die. ' ’ 

Jasper smoothed caressingly the small hand she held in 
her own. 

‘ ‘ Yes, to die. I am- so young ; it seems hard, does it 
not ? But, Jasper, life is such a cheat — we never have just 
what we want, do we ?” 


220 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


“No, dear Avis.” 

“ Never just what we want, so I am looking to that land 
to which I am hastening without a regret. Yes,” continued 
Avis, 4 4 all hearts were mine but one ; I was denied that 
boon which was worth all the rest. 

Here there was another painful pause. 

“ Jasper, I could not enter the pearly gates if I did not 
make a clean breast of it. That one heart worth all the 
rest was not mine. At first I coveted the glory of proving 
that I could win it, but in the effort I made to rivet the 
chains which would bind it to myself I lost my own heart 
irretrievably. Yes, I loved Sidney Rainsford, but I found out 
— alas ! too late ! — that he only looked on Avis Frothingham 
as the butterfly of fashion for whom he cherished a kind in- 
terest on account of her frailty, and that his truly noble 
heart was given to another. Who that other was I was not 
long in discovering. He gave me his confidence, and I in 
return gave him no encouragement. Circumstances aided 
me in this. I said little, but I did the mischief, and he saw 
the letters which came to the object of his attachment — he 
witnessed the meeting between her and her supposed lover. I 
felt sure that all would soon be forgotten in foreign travel 
and in the wealth of affection I cherished for him, which 
only awaited his asking. But no — at home or abroad, on 
sea or on land — his heart ever turned to the one noble, 
splendid woman he had left behind. That woman was 
Jasper St. John !” 

Jasper’s tears fell one by one upon the hand she held fast 
in her own. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


221 


“You are weeping; my own eyes are dry,” said Avis. 
“ I could not shed a tear, not even when Sidney bade me 
good-bye for the last time — no, not even when I heard that 
he was dead. Do not think me a wretch, Jasper. If I had 
been more callous, what was commenced for pastime would 
not have ended in grief, and I should have come out of this 
unscathed. But draw nearer and lay your hand upon my 
forehead, and remember, darling, that I loved him. 

“ Perhaps it is not unwomanly to say so, for I have seen 
his grave in that far-off, down-trodden land. I could not 
rest until I went there. Yes, I read the name of Sidney 
Rainsford upon the head-board which marked his last rest- 
ing-place, and oh! Jasper! I could tear out this wretched heart 
of mine and throw it away from me. There — in the loneli- 
ness of my own sorrow — I realized the wrong I had done 
both you and him. Back to Rome and then to the gay capi- 
tal of France I went, but life had lost its zest. Avis Froth- 
ingham was changed ! 

“ There was but one slight reparation I could make ; you 
were poor, I rich. I felt that my days were numbered. I 
would bequeath all I possessed on earth to you, and papers 
were drawn up to that effect while I was abroad. 

“ Alas ! even this consolation was denied me. On reach- 
ing New York, what was my astonishment to discover that 
while I was plotting against your happiness you were mak- 
ing a noble sacrifice to secure mine, and the fortune I 
wished to bestow was already your own. Jasper, I know 
your heart’s story by the tremor of your hand and the 
convulsive sob you are striving in vain to stifle. I do not 


222 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


ask you to forgive me ; you can but pity and pardon one 

who has been brought so low. But, darling .” Avis was 

overcome with fatigue and emotion, and turned her face to 
the wall until her voice came back to her. 

“ Darling, there is a bond of sympathy between us — 
we both loved him ! Seal this bond — kiss me, Jasper.” 

The parched lips of Avis were pressed in silence. 

“ Jasper, a load is lifted off my heart ; I look back upon 
the past as upon a fitful dream ; now 

* My soul to his soul I wed — 

Thine the living, but mine the dead.’ ” 

Jasper still chafed the transparent hand, and raised it to 
her lips more than once in token of love and forgiveness. 

Presently Avis roused up again. 

“ Jasper,” said she, “ I want to be buried in the family 
burying-ground at Sherwood — see to it. You will come 
sometimes and put flowers on my grave, will you not ?” 

“ Oh don’t — don’t talk so, dear Avis.” 

“ I must, Jasper; I may not be strong enough after a 
while. 

“ And I want you to see that a white marble shaft —a 
broken one — marks the spot where I rest ; will you ?” 

Jasper pressed the hand she held in token of assent. Her 
voice was choked with grief. She could say nothing. 

“Yes, tell them to place over my grave a broken shaft, 
with a white lily falling from its stem. Put nothing on the 
pedestal but the name of Avis. 

“ That is all I can say now,” and Avis again turned her 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


223 


face to the wall, and Jasper discovered by her breathing that 
she was asleep. 

Presently the invalid roused up. 

“I will not take any more of these opiates, Jasper; I 
shall never finish all that I wish to say. Now, while I am 
wide awake, take this key, open that case of jewelry.” 

Jasper did as she was requested. 

“You know, dear,” said Avis, “ all that I have is yours, 
but these few little keepsakes I must leave to those who have 
loved me in spite of all my faults. 

“ This set of pearls was my mother’s ; it must be kept 
for Bessie. These emeralds are for Pink, the coral for 
Tiny, the diamonds and all the rest for my elder sister, 
Mrs. Beresford. Take them away ; I am so tired — so tired ! 

“ Don’t leave me, darling ; I won’t be here long. I want 
to die in your arms, may I ?” 

“ Oh ! Avis !” cried Jasper, “ I cannot give you up. I 
never knew your worth until now,” and Jasper fell upon 
her knees and gave vent to the pent-up anguish of her 
soul. 

Avis grew rapidly worse. In the course of a few weeks 
the. struggle was over. The tired one rested, and all that re- 
mained of her fragile beauty was straightened for the grave. 
Mr. Beresford learned enough of the state of the case to 
become convinced that he had done Avis injustice, and when 
the last clod of earth fell upon her coffin he broke down 
entirely and wept like a child. 

Although the ample fortune to which Jasper had become 
heir removed all necessity for occupation, she once more 


224 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


sought consolation and forgetfulness in the hum-drum life 
of the governess. 

Mrs. Grantland was often the recipient of her bounty, and 
even Abel, who had become poor and needy, received sums 
of money without knowing whence they came. 

All at once the necessity for contributing to his wants 
ceased. Friend Grey wrote that he had left California. He 
had prostituted his talents to the writing of infidel articles 
for a second class paper in San Francisco, had gotten into a 
difficulty with an editor, and had finally disappeared alto- 
gether. 

Soon another year went by, and Mr. Faircastle again made 
his appearance at Sherwood, and even Mrs. Beresford, who 
was inclined to let the world go along in its own way, felt 
assured that his attentions were serious. 

Jasper wished to atone for what she knew he considered 
her foolishness — wished to consult him as her lawyer and 
place her affairs in his hands. And now an intimacy sprang 
up between Jasper and the Faircastles in Richmond, and she 
was invited to visit her father’s old friends during the holi- 
days. She always made Sherwood her headquarters, how- 
ever, and came back after months of travel to the welcome 
that was sure to be ready for her. 

In the course of a year or two little Bertha Reinberg, who 
had grown to be an accomplished woman, was installed as 
governess of the Sherwood children. This was done through 
Jasper’s influence and recommendation. It was a fortunate 
circumstance that so pleasant a home had been secured for 
Bertha. Her father had died suddenly — some said from 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


225 


the effect of a discord perpetrated by one of his pupils dur- 
ing her execution of an overture composed by Wagner. Be 
that true or not, the professor left a record of his faithful- 
ness in the accomplished musicians he furnished to the 
world, and there are many living who possess all of his 
faults but none of his virtues. Foremost among those who 
shone in the world of song as pupils of the worthy profes- 
sor was Jasper St. John. 

She soon became the favored guest of every throng. 
Young, gifted, attractive, and rich, she was sought by many, 
but she ever gave the same answer to every suitor, till at 
last it was publicly announced by some one intimate enough 
with her to give the semblance of truth to the assertion that 
Jasper St. John would never marry. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

Gold ! what a magic is in the word ! How naturally do 
most persons make the precious metal their standard of all 
excellence ! We read of golden hair, golden dreams, golden 
clouds, golden sunbeams, and golden opinions. How many 
are toiling for gold in various parts of the world — some in 
the natural cradles of the rivers, some in the auriferous rock 
where the primeval breakers, waves, and currents have 
disseminated it in veins which yield their treasures only to 
those who drop their sweat at the shrine of lucre ! But not 


226 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


only in the mines and beds of rivers of Europe, Asia, Africa, 
and America is man delving and dying for gold. No matter 
what the employment, indoors or out, at home or abroad, 
the precious metal is the goal for which we strive. 
Gold man will aim for, gold he must have, though in the 
struggle to obtain it he loses the golden opportunity of 
passing through the golden gate which he imagines stands at 
the entrance of Paradise. 

Solomon has said that the love of money is the root of all 
evil ; but a modern worshipper at the shrine of the golden 
calf has decided that the want of money is the root of all 
evil. 

An appreciation of the yellow dust, however, is not 
confined to those of the present day. Gold is often 
mentioned by Job. His friend Eliphaz advised him to 
return to God, for then would he lay up gold of Ophir 
as stones of the brooks. The ark, too, was covered with 
gold, and during the reign of Solomon the ships brought 
gold from Ophir, and the king sat upon a throne of ivory 
and gold, and all his drinking vessels were of gold. 

It is not astonishing, then, that men less wise than Solo- 
mon left home, friends, and all that was most dear when 
the cry of “ gold !” was raised in California. Then burst 
upon the world, too, the wonders of a land almost unknown 
before. We heard of its immense trees, its vast canons, its 
awful cataracts, and those who possessed not the greed for 
gold longed to see those wonders of nature. 

A lonely man was wandering in the valley of the Yose- 
mite. Perhaps he was tired of watching the grapple for 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


227 


gold. He seemed to love most to commune with the solemn 
skies, and to scale the heights that hung above ravines where 
foot of man had never trod. Ever on the lookout for ad- 
venture among the vast canons of the West, no spot was left 
unexplored. Wild and desert places were the 'delight of this 
ever-roving, ever-restless spirit, and then, when all that was 
grand and beautiful in nature had been seen, and there was 
nothing else to tempt the traveller to risk life and limb 
where never guide had set foot, the weary man turned else- 
where for amusement. 

There were yet portions of the American continent which 
he had not visited ; he would start once more upon his 
travels. This time the place of his destination was the gay 
and populous city of New Orleans. 

Just then an enemy more potent than any which man has 
ever had to contend with was making its way to the devoted 
city. It started from Vera Cruz on the Gulf of Mexico. At 
first the inhabitants of New Orleans laughed at the approach 
of their old foe — “ Yellow Jack,” as they called him — but he 
never entirely deserted them during the summer ; there were 
always a few cases of the disease in obscure streets and un- 
clean alleys ; there was no probability of the fever’s becom- 
ing infectious. Those who argued thus were mistaken. 

There was daily a fearful increase in mortality. A horror 
seized each inhabitant of the infected city, then there was a 
general stampede. To describe the scenes that attended the 
scourge of the yellow fever is beyond the power of mortal man. 
So malignant was the plague, so many were the patients, that 
there was a dearth of physicians, medicines, and nurses. 


228 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


One could almost see the infection in the air, and imagine 
that it was awaiting an opportunity to strike down its victim ; 
one not only smelt the plague but he tasted it. 

The disease produced different effects upon different per- 
sons. Some were delirious, requiring two or three persons 
to hold them in bed ; others fell into a stupor and were 
never aroused again. Many died in twenty-four hours after 
being taken, while some lingered for days. The situation 
grew hourly worse. Each day there were fresh horrors to 
record, and many died without attention. The well ones 
were quickly counted, and morning after morning that little 
band grew smaller. It seemed that the pestilence would 
not yield to medicine ; everything depended upon nursing. 

There were a few noble men who stood firm throughout 
the raging plague, and determined to battle with the scourge. 
They volunteered their services, which were thankfully 
accepted. 

Among those volunteer nurses was the stranger who had 
tired of his wanderings through the wild caflons of the 
West. This man was everywhere — now at the side of some 
lowly personage he administered medicine or gave a word of 
hope, again by the bed of some wealthier patient he received 
the last messages for absent friends in case the victim of the 
scourge was claimed by death. ' So efficient was this 
stranger, so cool did he appear under the most trying diffi- 
culties, that he won for himself the sobriquet of “ The 
Doctor.” A patient who had been suddenly striken with 
the plague turned restlessly from side to side upon his narrow 
bed. He was looking anxiously for some one. At last his 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


229 


eye lighted up with a gleam of satisfaction, and he exclaimed : 
“Ah, you have come, have you? But they tell me you 
are no doctor after all — only one of those persons willing to 
risk life and fortune in behalf of the scourged ; is that true ?’ ’ 

“It is.” 

“ Well, you are a brave man, and the world is not so bad 
as I thought it was. They tell me you are a stranger in the 
city.” 

“ That is true.” 

“ No one knows whence you came or whither you are 
going ?” 

“ True also. I will tell you whence I came, however. I 
left California on the 20th of August. Whither I am going 
I don’t know myself. The cry of the suffering human beings 
around me for help has caused me to delay indefinitely my 
departure from this plague-stricken community. ’ ’ 

‘ * And you came from California ?’ * said the patient. ‘ ‘ I 
too only left the gold region a few months ago. I staked 
my all and lost ! Ah, this is a sad, sad world !” 

“ Can I do anything for you ?” asked the Doctor, wishing 
to turn the conversation. 

“ Yes, the fever is upon me. Promise me that if my case 
becomes hopeless you will let me know. I have last words 
for one at home. I can trust you ?” 

“You can.” 

“ I thought so. I see you are every inch a man. Water, ’ ’ 
cried the man. “Oh, this burning, raging fever! give me 
water !” 

The cup was held to the sick man’s lips by the attendant, 


230 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


and the patient, somewhat relieved, lay down quietly and 
closed his eyes. 

Thus from one scene of suffering to another the Doctor 
went, and many were the cries for help that greeted him, 
many the blessings bestowed by those to whom he gave relief. 
At last his assistance was called for in vain ; he too fell a 
victim to the infection. The fever raged through his sys- 
tem, and after he was attacked with vomito even the most 
hopeful said that all was over, as that symptom was the sure 
signal of approaching dissolution. 

But the Doctor did not die. His wonderful constitution 
carried him through, and once again restored to health, he 
commenced his rounds among those who had not been so 
fortunate. 

His first thought was to go in search of the patient to 
whom he had made the promise that he should be told the 
truth if his days were numbered. The Doctor approached 
the man with concern. 

‘ ‘ What, ill yet ? You should have been out ten days ago. ’ ’ 

“ I know it, sir,” replied the man, gloomily, “ but I have 
had a relapse. They tell me that is certain death.” 

“ It is serious, to be sure,” responded the Doctor, “ but 
as long as there is life there is hope.” 

“ There is no hope for me ; something tells me I shall not 
recover. Do you remember my last conversation with you ?’ ’ 

“ Perfectly.” 

“You will execute my last commission ?” 

“ Faithfully.” 

“ I thank you,” said the man, putting out his wasted hand 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


231 

to be clasped by the Doctor’s. “ Now give me that port- 
folio ; the key is already in it. Thanks.” 

* * These, ’ ’ said the patient, taking one package of letters 
from the rest, “ I wish burnt — they are from a woman. I 
loved her — it is the old, old story — my love was not requited. 
Every line here written consists of kind and pitying words — 
earnest entreaties that I would return to a life of rectitude 
and honor. Had I obeyed her voice I had not been dying 
in this Southern clime with the pestilence that walketh in 
darkness. I wish her to know that I treasured her ad- 
monitions, although it was too late to heed them. I 
was not worthy of her, and yet I could not give her up. 
Her face came pleading silently and eloquently between 
me and all the wrong I ever did. Perhaps you may know 
her some day. To know her is to love her ; to love 
her — aye, be warned — is to feel that there is no other woman 
to whom your soul can link itself. This is her name and 
address,” said the sick man, handing the attendant a card. 
” You will see that she hears all I tell you ?” 

” I promise.” 

“ And now,” continued the patient, “ I can not recover. 
I am, as it were, a dead man ; you may as well leave me ; 
your duty is to the living.” 

“ Courage, my dear fellow” responded the Doctor. “ As 
for leaving you, I shall do no such thing. I am something 
of an invalid myself, and shall confine my attentions to one 
or two persons ; among those few you shall come first.” 

The patient looked up with a smile of gratitude. * ‘ God 
bless you, ’ ’ he said, fervently. ‘ * It was horrible to think 


232 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


that I might die like a dog with no one to care. Now I am 
ready, ’ ’ and the man stretched himself out, resolved to meet 
his fate fearlessly. 

Presently he lifted his head again from the pillow and said, 
“Doctor, tell her that the scoffer now believes that it was 
the prayer of a wo7nan which sent some one to his bedside, 
else why should he be cared for while many are deserted by 
their best friends ? Yes, it was her prayer — Jasper s. Tell 
her I was ready. ’ ’ 

The weather was hot and sultry. The pitiless skies poured 
down rain, which only increased the plague. After each 
shower an almost tropical sun came out more scorching 
than before. 

The man who had experienced a relapse did not recover. 
All the Doctor’s skill and nursing could not ward off the 
enemy. The patient now tore the sheets in strips ; he 
raved, he vowed vengeance on those who held him prisoner. 
It required all the strength the Doctor could command to 
hold that man upon his bed ; but the struggle was short. 
The pestilence soon ran its course, and ere long death put 
an end to the agony of the victim. 

True to his word, the Doctor remained with him to the last, 
performed the last sad offices for the dead man, and finally 
saw that he was decently buried. The grave was marked 
with the name of Abel Grantland. 

The infection was checked for the want of material. New 
Orleans was almost depopulated. And now the morning 
air became more crisp, and those who had fled in terror 
from the plague-stri 'ken city watched for the approach of 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


233 


frost as a harbinger of safety. At last the dew grew white, 
and when first its frozen crystals glistened on tree and plant, 
children scraped the particles from off the leaves into their 
hands and kissed the blessed frost ; men and women fell 
upon their knees and thanked God for frost.' Everywhere 
the cry arose, “we are saved — we are saved !” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

The marble shaft was in its place, the white lily drooped 
from its stem, the name of Avis was on the pedestal. Jas- 
per frequently walked to the grave-yard, and the flowers were 
not forgotten. 

On the present occason she lingered in twilight air. 
Mammy and the children were sitting at the foot of the hill. 
Mammy was getting old, and did not care about climbing to 
the top — she would keep the children until Jasper came 
back. 

The gate was open, and Jasper passed through. She stood 
beside the grave of Avis. Away off in the blue the clouds 
seemed sailing away with the moon, and the silvery sky 
formed a tranquil background to the figure now clad in 
mourning. 

All around was still. Suddenly was heard the rustle of 
autumn leaves ; something came near ; it was Sultan, Sidney 
Rainford’s dog. As he sprang towards her, a superstitious 


234 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


feeling took possession of Jasper, for now the animal fawned 
at her feet, then ran about the grave-yard sniffing the air 
mysteriously. During Sidney Rainsford’s lifetime Sultan 
had been his shadow. When the master sold Maplewood 
the dog was left in the care of a faithful servant, who treated 
him kindly. Notwithstanding this, Sultan could never be 
induced to follow his new owner, and the deserted friend of 
Sidney Rainsford seemed determined to dream away the rest 
of his life in the sunshine before the cottage-door. Jasper 
had often heard the conduct of the aniaml commented upon. 
To encounter Sultan at such a time and such a place was 
enough to make any one a little nervous, but before the 
visitor at the grave of Avis Frothingham had recovered from 
her surprise the dog was over the wall and away off in the 
woods again. 

It was getting late. Jasper once fairly out of the grave- 
yard, retraced her steps, increasing her pace at the same 
time, and ere long rejoined the children, who were waiting 
with Mammy at the foot of the hill. All were soon at Sher- 
wood again, but Mr. and Mrs. Beresford had not yet re- 
turned from Chatsworth, whither they had gone to bid fare- 
well to an old friend who was on the eve of moving into a 
new neighborhod. 

The children were tired and sleepy, and after having their 
tea were hurried off to the nursery by Mammy. Bertha 
Reinberg was in her own room writing letters, and Jasper 
determined to beguile the moments with music until Mrs. 
Beresford ’s return. Sultan had wakened a crowd of mem- 
ories. The piano was already open, and as Jasper’s hands 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


235 


wandered over the keys, again ‘ ‘ The Prayer of the South' ’ 
seemed to flow involuntarily from the tips of her fingers. 
There was no lamp, no light of any kind was near, except 
that of the moon, which photographed upon the polished 
floor the oak leaves that were dancing in the breeze. 

Suddenly the musician was thrilled — she paused — Sultan 
was beside her — his paws were in her lap. Jasper was not 
superstitious, but now a cold stream seemed curdling in her 
veins, and then her heart almost stopped beating. Awed 
into the impression that there was a soul besides her own in 
that room, it was a moment or two before she recovered her- 
self. When she did so she laid her hand caressingly upon 
the dog’s head and said, “ Poor Sultan ! Down, down, 
my good fellow !” 

The animal obeyed, but as he did so gave a cry of 
joy and leaped into the middle of the room. At the same 
time a figure emerged from shadow — it was that of a 
man ! 

The musician left her seat at the instrument. She dis- 
cerned the intruder. It was no spectre ; it was a man. 
Bronzed and somewhat careworn, but still the same — the 
living man — Sidney Rainsford / 

As Jasper fell almost senseless into his arms, he needed 
not the aid of language to tell him what he had never known 
till then — that she loved him. 

Yes, ‘ ‘ hand to hand and soul to soul ’ ’ those two had 
met at last, never to be parted again on this side of eternity. 
At first their lips were silent, but language was superfluous. 
They knew each other now, and over the reunion of those 


236 IN DEAD EARNEST . 

once divided hearts we draw a veil, the fulness of a joy 
which can never be described. 

Mr. Beresford was just as much astonished as if old Colo- 
nel Beresford of the Revolutionary War had arrived, and 
Mammy declared it was equal to an “ insurrection of the 
dead.” 

The story of Sidney Rainsford ’s death might well have 
been credited. He had been taken to a hospital with camp- 
fever, where he lingered for some time too ill for service. 

After partially recovering he was again disabled from the 
effects of an old wound received during the war between 
North and South. 

Pronounced unfit for service, he resigned his position in 
the army of the Khedive, and determined to travel in the East. 

His camp furniture, clothing, and soldier’s accoutrements 
were bequeathed to a comrade who lay ill in the same ward 
which Sidney had occupied. 

In the meantime the persons in charge of the hospital — 
surgeons and all — were relieved, and others were appointed to 
the trust. The comrade whom Sidney Rainsford left ill 
died and was buried. Everything this man possessed bore 
the name of the donor. Even the linen in which the dead 
body was shrouded was marked with the name of Sidney 
Rainsford. 

The fame of that gallant soldier had not extended so far 
as Egypt, and there were none to contradict the story of his 
death. Consequently Avis had actually seen what purported 
to be his grave, and had read his name upon the head- 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


2 37 


board. The real Sidney knew nothing of this. Having 
visited every place of repute in Asia and Africa, again he 
was on the sea, this time bound for California. He it was 
who astonished the guides by scaling vast heights where no 
other man had ever trod. Putting out for NewOrleans, he it 
was who headed the band of noble men who risked their 
lives for their fellow-creatures — yes, it was Sidney Rainsford 
who had won for himself the title of ‘ 4 The Doctor, ’ ’ had 
watched beside Abel Grantland till he died, had seen him 
decently interred, and now had he come to fulfil that last 
promise, and to deliver the message of the “penitent” to 
Jasper St. John. 

Having arrived at Chatsworth, Sidney secured a horse and 
set out for Sherwood. As he approached that portion of 
the estate occupied by the Beresford burying-ground, the 
white marble shaft attracted his eye. A cottage was situated 
near the boundary line which divided the estates of Ma- 
plewood and Sherwood. In this cottage lived the negro in 
whose charge the dog had been left. Sidney stopped to ask 
some question of the man who had formerly been his slave, 
but before the stranger had made himself known Sultan 
recognized in him his long-lost friend, and made wild and 
frantic efforts to leap nearer to his old master. When Sid- 
ney turned his horse into the bridle-path which led in the 
direction of the marble shaft, Sultan, who accompanied him, 
seemed to know his intention by instinct. The dog was in 
the grave-yard long before his master, and Sultan it was that 
had, by his unexpected appearance and singular capers, 
caused Jasper to hurry homeward. 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


238 

In course of time Mr. Beresford’ s eyes were opened to the 
situation of affairs. He wondered that he should ever have 
been so obtuse as to suppose Jasper would marry his old 
bachelor friend Mr. Faircastle. 

Mr. Beresford saw it all now. Matches were made in 
heaven. Were not Jasper and Sidney cut out for each 
other ? 

Yet the old gentleman was astonished. Nothing, said he, 
had surprised him more, unless it was the news that young 
Mandeville was to be married and would soon bring his 
bride home. 

“ His bride !” exclaimed Mrs. Beresford. “ I thought Mr. 
Mandeville had not yet recovered from the death of Avis. ’ ’ 

“ Ah, my dear,” responded Mr. Beresford with a sigh, 
“ men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for 
love. It is perhaps well that it is so. If all the men who 
loved poor Avis had remained bachelors ” 

Mrs. Beresford shook her head reproachfully at her hus- 
band, and he was silent. At length the lady said, “ Tell us 
who it is that is going to marry our young friend Mr. 
Mandeville ?’ ’ 

“ Miss Lee — Kate Lee, of Marlborough.” 

” Kate Lee !” exclaimed Bertha Reinberg in the exuber- 
ance of her joy. “ Jasper, we shall be too happy ; the bride 
is our own dear Katie ! Isn’t it wonderful that we shall all 
be together again — away off here in Virginia too !” 

The person who had purchased Maplewood had tired of 
the novelty and returned to England. The place was for 
sale, and Sidney Rainsford again became the owner. There 


IN DEAD EARNEST. 


2 39 


were grand preparations going on at the old homestead, and 
the truth came out at last that the heir was going to take to 
himself a wife. Mr. Beresford declared that the wedding 
should be at Sherwood. Moreover, he would not consent 
to the mournful morning ceremony of 4 the present day. 
Sherwoood should have a real wedding. The grounds should 
be illuminated, and everybody invited — in fact, the affair 
should be a grand jubilee over the return of Sidney Rains- 
ford to Virginia. 

Oh ! that the old State had a few more like that gallant son 
to steer her clear of the breakers, for Virginia was not dead ; 
she would yet hold up her head, and as long as there was 
breath in his body Mr. Beresford would cry, 

* * Hurrah for the Old Dominion !' * 








































































































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-•' 1.1 

II 










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4 















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Is written in an interesting and popular style and contains much useful in- 
formation.— Oakland, Cal ., Daily News. 

The subject of the high valuation of gold and silver currency is fully dis- 
cussed, and offers some new ideas worthy the attention of those interested in 
monetary affairs . — Toledo Commercial. 

The author is a merchant who has extensively studied the currency problem, 

flis hits are often sharp and incisive Mr. i’ilon would provide ample 

banking facilities for every city, town and village, with both stock and land 
security.— Cincinnati Daily Star. 

Discussing the currency question in an original, forcible and enter- 
taining style. The author has brought together a great amount of varied 

information upon the whole subject of money Those interested will find 

unquestioned ability in the author’s handling of it .—Baltimore Methodist 
Protestant. 


The Manuscript Manual : 

How to Prepare Manuscripts for the Press— practical 
and to the point. Paper, 26 pp., 8vo. Price 10 cents. 

A most useful little companion to the young writerand editor .— The South , 
New York. 

(Jives excellent hints to intending writers .— Cleveland Evan. Messenger 


THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING CO.’S NEW BOOKS. 


The Race for Wealth, 

Considered in a Series of Letters written to each other by a 
Brother and Sister. Edited by James Corley. 12mo, 180 
pp., paper Price 50 cents. 

Shows how labor strikes may be prevented ; how women may 
advance their political influence ; how marriage may recover due 
regard in public opinion ; the impossibility of enforcing total ab- 
stinence from strong liquors ; and treats these and other topics 
of social and political economy in a clear style, making the work 
peculiarly attractive and impressive. 

Aptly considered.— tff. Lords Christian. 

Of special importance. — Cincinnati Gazette . 

Attractive . . . needed. — Quincy Whig. 

Sensible, robust, sound .—Hartford Courant. 

Clear, earnest, thoughtful. — Phila. Nat. Baptist. 

Pleasant, intelligent, wholesome, useful. — Zion's Ilei'ald, Boston. 

Simplicity in the arguments and the way of presenting them that is re- 
freshing —Lo uisvitte Courier Journal. 

Author’s Manuscript Paper. 

Made from superior stock, in two grades, and sold only in 
ream packages. Each package warranted to contain full count 
of 480 sheets. 

MANUFACTURED BY THE AUTHORS* PUBLISHING COMPANY. 

AUTHOR’S MANUSCRIPT PAPER, 5% + 11 , per ream . . . $1.00 

AUTHOR’S MANUSCRIPT PAPER, 5% -f 11, heavier, per ream . 1.25 

Note.— When paper is sent by mail 50 cents per ream, in addition to price, 
must accompany order, to prepay postage. 

It is only by making a specialty of this paper, manufacturing directly at 
the mills in large quantities, and selling exclusively for cash, that the de- 
mand can be supplied at these low prices. It is really nearly one hundred 
per cent, cheaper than any other paper in the market. 

It is ruled on one side, the other plain ; is approved by writers and pre- 
ferred by printers ; and it has now become the popular standard paper for 
authors, contributors, editors, and writers generally. 

The A. P. Co. sell no other stationery. 

A very convenient size, and at a low price.— Publishers' Weekly , N. Y. 

The distinguishing feature of the Manuscript Paper is its convenient 
shape. The texture is neither too thick nor too thin, making it in every way 
a desirable paper for writers and contributors .— Acta Columbiana , New 
York. 

It is especially useful for writers for the press, combining as it does good 
quality with cheapness. The convenience of form is apparent to all who 
have writing to do, while it soon saves its price in postage .— Essex County 
Press, Newark % N. J. 

Thousands of letters from well known authors , editors x and 
writers are on file in our office expressing the highest satisfac- 
tion with this paper , and thanking us for introducing it intQ 
market . 


THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING CO.’S NEW BOOKS, 


THE SATCHEL SERIES. — NOTICE. 

This popular series comprises the brightest and best brief 
works of fiction by American Authors who are, for the 
most part, well known to the reading public. They are not 
trashy reprints nor dime novels. They are clean and polished 
in matter, printed in large type, bound in convenient shape, 
and offer fascinating and delightful reading alike for Railway, 
Fireside and Library. 


Lily’s Lover ; or, a Trip Out of Season. 

By the author of “ Climbing the Mountains,” etc. Satchel 
Series ; square 12mo, paper covers ... 35 cents. 

A very sweet and pretty story of summer-time romantic adven- 
tures among the green hills and silvery lakes of Connecticut. 


Rosamond Howard. 

By Kate R. Lovelace. Satchel Series ; square 12mo, 

paper covers 25 cents. 

Extra edition, in fine English cloth . , . 60 “ 

A quiet, pathetic and attractive story, excellently managed and 
beautifully told, with continuous and increasing interest. 


The Voice of a Shell. 

By 0. C. Auringer. Satchel Series; square 12mo, paper 
covers ........ 50 cents. 

To all lovers of the sea, and to all who linger by its sounding 
shores, nothing can be more entrancing than the pages of this 
beautiful little volume. It is delicate, brilliant and grand. 


THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING CO.’S NEW BOOKS. 


Shadowed Perils! 

A Novel. By M. A. Avery, author of “ The Loyal 
Bride,” etc. English cloth, 260 pp., 12mo, . . . $1 00 

The story Is bold and dramatic in action, graceful in narrative, strong in characteriza- 
tion, intense in interest, sweet and pure in tone, and is marked by keen sympathy with 
the lowly and oppressed. 


Prisons Without Walls (Satchel Series) : 

A Novel. By Kelsic Etheridge. Paper, r pp., 

Price, 35 cents. 

lias the curiosity-exciting tendency. — Boston Beacon. 

The interest grows and retains attention to the end IF. O. Picayune. 

Short, sententious, marrowy, and spiced with episodes. Has a warm southern aroma 
of orange and magnolia blossoms. — Baltimore Meth. Prot. 

Of rare beauty and power in its vivid, life-like picturing of men and places 

Through such artistic touches of skill and strength we are wafted in thought as we fol- 
low the hero and heroine through the mazes of the old, old story.— Ladies' Pearl % St. Louis. 

The Travelers’ Grab-Bag; or, the Heart of a Quiet Hour: 

(Satchel Series.) 

A Hand-book for utilizing fragments of leisure in railroad 
trains, steamboats, way stations and easy cliairs. Edited 
by An Old Traveler. . . . Paper, -* pp., 

Price, 35 cents. 

Full of spice and fun. — Baltimore Meth. Prot. 

No traveler should be without it.— IF. T. Forest and Stream. 

Teeming with rollicking humor and a kind of satire that will be enjoyable,— Pittsburgh 
Commercial. 

Bonny Eagle. (Satchel Series.) 

Clear type, heavy tinted paper, 12mo, . . 25 cents. 

The curious and ludicrous experiences of a party of gentlemen who 
sought happiness in the forests of Maine ; graphically told with a naiv* 
humor and delicate satire; fresh and spicy. 


THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY’S NEW BOOKS, 


Nobody’s Business. 

Satchel Series. By Jeannette R. Hadermann, author of 
“Bead Men's Shoes,” “Heavy Yokes,” “Against the 
, World,” etc. Square 12mo, 128 pp., paper. . . 80 cents. 

An admirable hook. — Phila. "Record . 

A charming book — Phila. Epit. of Literature. 

Full of lively sallies and bright hits. — Bap. Weekly , A. Y. 

A sprightly, capitally told narrative— sympathetically interesting and 
highly amusing. — Boston Home Journal. , 

A rollicking, breezy tale. A more charming book, for sheer amusement, 
we have seldom met with. — A Y. Mail. 

Affords more hearty laughs than can be gotten out of the best comic play. 
The style is polished and spirited, the wit piquant, and its common sense 
sound as a dollar. — Vicksburg Herald. 

Our Winter Eden. 

Pen Pictures op the Tropics, with an Appendix of the 
Seward-Samana Mystery. By Mrs. W. L. Cazneau, 
author of “ Prince Kashna,” “ Eagle Pass,” “ Hill Homes of 
Jamaica.” Satchel Series. Square 12mo., 130 pp., 

paper. . .... 30 cents. 

Mrs. Cazneau has resided, during the winters of twenty years, amidst the 
scenes of which she writes, General Cazneau being for many years the Com- 
missioner from the United States to Santo Domingo. The author imparts 
to her Pen Pictures the very glow of that soft climate which “ has no win- 
ter in its year.” She captures every sense with panoramic descriptions of 
enchanting landscapes, glowing with rich tints and breathing the sweet fra- 
grance of rosy June. 

An Earnest Appeal to Moody. 

A Satire. Satchel Series. Square 12mo, 34 pp., paper, 

. . . . . . .10 cents. 

A stinging thrust at some of the foibles of Newspaper 
Bow and Brooklyn’s political rings. The performance is 
bright, pointed and keen. 

The hits are well taken and to the point, and will be appreciated by many, 
as the names are outlined sufficiently to be readily recognized. — Epit. of 
Literature , Phila. 

The references to and the rest will prove quite amusing, 

especially as this satire represents them as amenable to reform and to be 
conscience-stricken by Mr. Moody’s preaching. — Brooklyn Times. 

A Story of the Strike. 

Scenes in City Life. Satchel Series. By Elizabeth 
Murray. Illustrated. Square 12mo, 128 pages. . 30 cents. 

Vivacious tale. — A. Y. Mail. 

Is a pretty story.— A. Y. Eve. Telegram. 

Characters are well drawn. — St. Louis Herald. 

A pleasant story.— Sunday School Times. 

Is a beautiful story.— Boston Home Journal. 

Will amuse the family circle.— Kansas City Times. 


THE SATCHEL SERIES. 

BRIGHT, ELEGANT, CHARMING! 

STORY, ROMANCE, TRAVEL, ADVENTURE, HUMOR, HEALTH, PLEASURE. 


From the Boston Home Journal. 

The “ Satchel Series ” comprises the brightest and best brief works of 
fiction by American authors who are, for the most part, well known to 
the reading public. They are not trashy reprints nor “ dime novels,” 
but are clean and polished in matter, printed in large type, neatly 
bound in paper covers, convenient alike for railway, seashore or home 
reading. 

Short, sententious and marrowy, pleasing in style and 
handy in form — with bold type and open, cheerful pages — 
they are designed to fill fragments of leisure, in all seasons 
and places, with the genuine comforts of reading. 

VOLUMES READY. 

Nobody’s Business. By author “ Dead Men’s Shoes,” “ Heavy Yokes,” etc. 30c. 
Story of the Strike. Scenes in City Life. lifted. By Elizabeth Murray. 30c. 

Lily’s Lover. By author of “ Climbing the Mountains,” etc 35c. 

Traveller’s Grab-Bag:. Stories, Thought, Fancies. By an Old Traveller. . 35c. 

Prisons Without "Walls. Novelette. By Kelsic Etheridge, 35c. 

Rosamond Howard. Fact and fancy. By Kate R. Lovelace 25c. 

Bonny Eagle. A Summer jauut to the forests of Maine 25c. 

How to be Beautiful. A Toilet Manual for Ladies. By Louise Capsadell 25c. 

Earnest Appeal to Moody. A Satire 10c. 

Voice of a Shell. Stories of the Sea, and Sea Songs. By O. C. Auringer. 40c. 

Our Winter Eden. Pen Pictures of the Tropics. By Mrs. Cazneau 30c. 

Our Pegrgotties. By Kesiah Shelton 25c. 

Only a Tramp. A fascinating, picturesque novel. By Owanda. Just out.. 50c. 

Who Did It P A vivid, thrilling story. By Mark Frazier. Just out ...30c. 

City of Fin. A trip to the bottom of the Sea. By Jas. R. Campbell Shortly. 

Under the Allspice Trees. By Mrs. Wm. Leslie Cazneau Shortly. 


ATTRACTIVE NEW ROOKS JCJfT READY. 

Our Wedding Gifts. By Miss A. M. Douglas, author of “ Nelly Kinnard’s 
Kingdom,” “ From Hand to Mouth,” “ In Trust,” etc. Paper, 50 cents ; 

cloth $1.00. 

Linda ; or, Uber das Meer. By Mrs. H. L. Crawford. The Gem of Gift 

Books for Young Folks. Bright cloths, red edges $1.25. 

In Dead Earnest. By Julia Breckinridge. A grand novel, with wonder- 
ful interest of plot and masterly ability throughout. Cloth $1.00. 

Mystic Key; or, Poetic Fortune Teller. Arranged by Miss Emma E. 
Riggs. Delineates character, reveals the unknown, and amuses every- 
, body. Cloth... 75c. 





























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